Dark Boundaries
by kaleidopy
Summary: After Kermit's sister asks him to help her friend, it sets off a chain of events nobody expected. It reunites Caine with a former lover, whose own past is quickly catching up with her.
1. Chapter 1

**Dark Boundaries**

_Chapter One_

Sitting alone in the darkness wasn't unusual for Erik Montgomery. In fact, he considered it his most trusted ally, especially during important times like these.

At thirty-four years of age, he felt he had spent enough time living under the thumb of his family. No longer would he live on the small allowance he had been given. Even though his grandfather believed differently, everything rightfully belonged to him, especially the house and the secret it hid from the rest of the world.

A smile played across his face. Oh, how he had fooled his family over the years. His grandfather, Professor Ben Montgomery, a well-known and respected archaeologist had been delighted when his grandson had taken an interest in his overseas expeditions. The elder Montgomery had built up a small, wealthy clientele, using those elite people to gain rare and priceless antiques to display on his federally funded tours across the country.

For seven long years, Erik followed along with his grandfather on those boring tours, giving the elder Montgomery the impression that he wanted to follow in his footsteps. Little did Ben know those pieces of ugly pottery, tacky jewelry, and strange sculptures weren't locked away in some stale museum, but had been sold on the black market in order to fill Erik's multinational bank accounts.

It always amused him the ludicrous amount of money certain individuals were willing to pay to own a relic from a long forgotten empire.

Now that he was financial future secure, Erik was able to turn his attention to the only thing he desired most: learning the identity of his biological father.

Erik had always suspected his father was just a brief acquaintance in his mother's very public life that wasn't worth mentioning, not when it came to the accomplishments of the multi-award-winning author. If anything, Patrice Montgomery thrived on the attention, delighting in the scandalous headlines and goofy tabloids that linked her to famous movie stars and members of several royal families.

Ben had quickly grown tired of the public embarrassment and had threatened numerous lawsuits against the tabloids if another false story was published. He also vowed to disown Patrice if she continued to feed the rumor mill.

Threatened with legal action, the tabloids immediately ceased publishing the stories and interest in the subject quickly died. Ben, unfortunately, had underestimated Patrice's enormous ego. Had it not been for a scrapbook discovered in his mother's study, Erik never would have known the scandal had existed. The scrapbook contained every headline printed covering Patrice's pregnancy and the long list of possible fathers. When he confronted his mother with the information, she had broken down and confessed, claiming she had been only briefly involved with his father, and that he had been killed in Vietnam

He suspected it was a lie, but at the time, Erik had other important matters that needed his attention, and gaining his grandfather's complete trust had been his first priority. Once he had accomplished that goal, the rest had been easy.

Years of careful planning had finally paid off, and he was about to reap the rewards of his labors. He had sent his grandfather off on a wild goose chase, searching for a non-existent trinket in Egypt, so he could deal with his loony mother.

He walked through the darkened hallway to the living room and flipped on the table lamp. He picked up the telephone, dialed a number, and waited until the familiar voice answered.

"Mom, it's me. I need to see you."

"Erik, it's late. Why are you coming over at this hour?"

"It's important," he declared, fighting to control his anger. He had tolerated her whining for too long, and he was simply sick of hearing it. He couldn't wait to rid himself of her existence. "I wouldn't be wasting my time with you if it weren't. I'll be there in thirty minutes. Bye."

Patrice Montgomery put the phone down and tried to remain calm. That was difficult considering how much her son had changed over the past two years. Where Erik had once been reserved and intelligent, he now was angry, brutal, and devious. What lingered most in the back of Patrice's mind was the thought that Erik had played them all like fools for years and was now showing his true nature. Before she could contemplate on the subject any further, the phone rang again. She took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Patrice, you sound upset."

"Dad," she sighed, thankful to hear her father's voice on the other end. "I thought you were in Egypt."

"Erik lied to me," her father answered. "I've found out that everything I've heard about him is true."

"I hate to say this Dad, but I'm afraid of my own son," she admitted. "He's on his way over here."

"Keep the door locked until I get there," her father ordered before the line went dead.

Erik chuckled as he climbed the few steps to his mother's front door. He knocked on the door and yelled, "Open the door, Mother. Gramps isn't going to help you this time."

Silence answered him.

He glanced in both directions, making sure nobody was in sight, and then kicked in the front door.

The loud crash announced his arrival. "Mother, I'm here."

Patrice trembled, praying her son wouldn't find her hiding place, but it was in vain. The false door behind the dresser was opened, and she was savagely yanked out and thrown onto the bed before she could utter a scream.

Erik raised his hand, bringing it down full force on his mother's face. "I want the key to the safe deposit box," he demanded. "Now! I'm sick of this God-forsaken city."

Patrice screamed as she was struck a second time.

"I don't have time for this, old lady," Erik shouted, yanking his mother to her feet. "Look at me!"

"No," Patrice wept, averting her eyes from her son's.

"Look at me," Erik repeated, wrapping his hand around her throat. "Do it now before I squeeze out what little life you have left."

She reluctantly obeyed, trembling as she faced him.

"Now for the last time," he continued, gritting his teeth with each spoken word. "Where's the key to the safe deposit box?"

"Taped under the stereo," Patrice answered. "Erik, please, why are you doing this? If it's money that…"

"Money? I have enough money to last four lifetimes, Mother," Erik laughed, grinning at her perplexed expression. "You look as confused as I did the day I discovered my father was still alive. Yes, Mother, I found that letter you wrote to your friend."

"I never wanted to hurt you, Erik," Patrice answered truthfully. "I felt if you believed your father was dead, you would never learn the truth."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't in love with him," she admitted, fearful of what her confession would do to him. "Your father loved me unconditionally, but the relationship was doomed from the beginning. I wanted a career more than anything, including him. I couldn't risk my career for a marriage that might not have worked."

"You bitch! Did my father know about me?"

"No, Erik," Patrice confessed. "I never told him. The day I ended our relationship was the last day I saw Kwai Chang Caine."


	2. Chapter 2

**Dark Boundaries**

_Chapter Two_

Erik took a small step backwards, trying to absorb the information his mother had just revealed. For the first time in his life, he knew his father's identity, but the name meant nothing to him.

He grabbed a chair, sat down, and faced the distraught woman. He could care less about the man who fathered him, but the idea of tormenting his mother before he killed her captivated him. The woman loved to be the center of attention, and now she was about to perform her final act.

"Mother," he said softly, trying to entice her into a false sense of security, "tell me about my father."

"Kwai Chang was a gentle and caring man who had a strong passion for life and nature," Patrice said, ignoring the tears that streamed down her face. "He never held a grudge against anyone."

Erik laughed cruelly. "I bet I could have changed his mind."

.

"No, Erik, you couldn't," she answered with sincerity. "Your father would have found some seed of goodness in you. He believed with all his heart that nobody was beyond redemption. He was a very special man."

"Special? You've got to be kidding!" Erik said, completely disillusioned. As a child, he imagined his father as a war hero, a strong-willed individual who demanded the world and got it. From his mother's brief description, his father apparently was one of those long-haired, peace-waving, anti-war groupies who wore tie-dyed T-shirts and drove around in a Volkswagen van with flowers painted on it. "The man as a hippie," he snorted.

"He was not," Patrice protested, surprising her son with her new found courage. "Kwai Chang Caine…"

"Oh shut up," Erik snapped, interrupting his mother. "I don't care if the man was the president, he means nothing to me, just like you." He pulled out a stiletto and slowly ran his finger up and down the sharp blade. "I've planned this for a long time, Mother. I made sure people believed you were the blabbering idiot. I've even planted a suicide note in the kitchen."

"Nobody's going to believe I killed myself."

"Yes they will. You've been so depressed lately that your best friend made an appointment with a psychologist behind your back."

"But I…"

"Haven't been depressed?" Eric taunted, advancing towards his mother's cowering form. "People will believe anything with enough persuasion. Thanks to a few phone calls, I had your doctor convinced you were over the edge, and he agreed not to prescribe you any more sleeping pills. You played right into my hands yesterday by throwing that tantrum inside the drug store when the pharmacist refused to refill your prescription. Several people were asking if you had escaped from a mental home when the cops escorted you out of the building."

"How did you know about that?"

"I know everything, Mother." Erik grinned maliciously, and placed the stiletto against her neck. "I even know when you're going to die."

Suddenly the door smashed open, interrupting Erik's moment of satisfaction.

"Erik, drop the knife."

He turned and faced the intruder. "I guess I underestimated you, Gramps. I was sure you'd still be digging that hole in Egypt."

"You guessed wrong, Erik, and now you'll never see a penny of my money - you're disinherited," Ben said with satisfaction and then glanced at his daughter. "Let your mother go."

"She's not going anywhere," Erik said. He tightened the hold he had on her and raised the knife to her neck.

Ben pulled out a long silver chain with a gold key dangling from it. "I think this will make you change your mind."

Erik immediately recognized the key and gasped. "Where did you find that?"

"Let your mother go and we'll talk," Ben demanded.

Erik quickly obeyed, never taking his eye off the chain. Patrice rushed to her father's side. "Dad, give him what he wants. I…."

"Patrice, do as I told you. If anything happens to me, remember whom I told you to contact. Now go!" he said, and practically shoved her out of the room.

Once she was gone, Ben turned to his grandson. "When you had the house remodeled and moved to this isolated road, I believed you when you said it was a surprise for your mother."

"It was a surprise for…"

"Stop lying, Erik," Ben said, tossing the key to Erik. "I discovered your little room and where it led." He pointed at the chain. "Did you really think you could keep it a secret from me?"

"Well, I have for three years," Erik declared smugly. "With you overseas, I had plenty of time to create my little underground black market warehouse. Mother never had a clue what I was doing because she was too busy trying to prove all of those damned conspiracy theories she believed in."

"If you hadn't encouraged her, she never would have chased such foolish notions."

"Encouraged her?" Erik laughed. "Who do you think hired that NASA impersonator to feed Mother that baloney? He had her convinced the moon landing was a hoax, and Martians were behind the crop circles in England." He smiled, shaking his head at his own cruel joke. "Do you know people are still talking about the exclusive Mother gave to the New York Times three months ago? I can still see the headline now. 'Award winning writer, photographer, and editor claims she was abducted by space aliens."

"You destroyed Patrice's reputation, both personally and professionally. If it hadn't been for my influence, she would have been locked away and forced to undergo psychiatric treatment." Ben sadly turned away from his grandson. "I had so much hope for you, Erik. You have could have had everything, but you threw it all away. And for what? Money?"

"You can't even imagine what I'm getting, old man."

"I can't let you get away with this."

"How do you plan to stop me, Gramps," Erik taunted. "Talk me into seeking forgiveness?"

Patrice looked in both cars, desperately hoping to find a set of keys in one of them so she could get help for her father, but both of the vehicles were locked. Panicked, she ran to the only other house on the secluded street, praying her neighbor was home.

The neighbor's front porch light guided her to the marble steps, and she banged on the oak door. "Marsha! Marsha, are you home? Please, help me."

Within seconds, the door opened and Marsha Thomas appeared. "Quick, come inside," she said, pulling Patrice into the house and immediately locking the door behind them. "It's Erik, isn't it? I've tried to warn you for years about him, but…"

"We got to call the police," Patrice screamed hysterically. "My father's in danger. Erik will kill him unless we get help."

"Calling the police is useless and you know it. The sheriff will claim you're crazy and threaten to put you away, just like he did the last time you called him. Besides, Erik owns the police and every lawyer within a twenty-mile radius." Marsha ran to the coat rack and searched the pockets of her coat. She pulled out her keys and gave them to her friend. "Take my car. Do you have somebody who can help you?"

"Yes, my cousin. If he can't help me, nobody can. Where's your telephone?"

"By the stairs."

Patrice took a deep breath and made her way to the stairs. She picked up the phone, dialed a number, and then cleared her throat as she waited for someone to answer.

"Hello," a female voice answered.

"It's me, Patrice. I know it's been awhile but I'm in trouble." Her hand trembled uncontrollably. "I need to get in touch with Dobbin. It's urgent. You know I would never ask if..."

"Patrice, calm down. I'll call him. Can you call me back in an hour?"

Patrice bit her lip, nervously glancing back at the locked front door. "How about five minutes?"

"I can try."

"That's all I'm asking. Thank you." She hung up the phone and started pacing. "Five minutes will seem like a life time. I don't know if I have that much time."

"Get out of here before Erik comes after you," Marsha said, escorting her neighbor to the door. "You can call your cousin from a phone booth. Go! I'll do what I can to buy you some time."

"My father..."

Marsha hugged her friend, perhaps for the last time. "Your father is sacrificing his life to save yours. Don't let him die in vain. Go."

The two women hugged again. Patrice, without looking back, did as she was told.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dark Boundaries**

_**Kaleidopy**_

Chapter Three

Erik picked up his grandfather's wrist and checked for a pulse. "Deader than disco," he announced, dropping the hand to examine his handiwork.

He heard a car's engine start in the distance.

"Oh no, you don't, Mother. You're not getting away." He rushed out the door and into the front yard in time to see a car speed down the street. In the darkness, he couldn't tell the make or model of the automobile but he knew where it had come from. He would catch up with his mother later. Right now, Marsha Thomas needed to be taught a lesson.

Patrice Montgomery drove the late-model Mercedes as fast as she could. She pressed the accelerator to the floorboard, hoping to put as much distance as possible between herself and her son.

Erik squeezed a little harder, forcing Marsha Thomas' eyes to roll back into her head. Since she had provided him with the information he needed, he had no further use for her. He watched her take her last breath and then dropped her like yesterday's garbage.

He picked up the phone. "Let's find out if you called anyone before you left in such a hurry, Mother." He hit the redial button and waited for someone to answer.

"Hello?"

A smile crept across Erik's face. Even though he had not heard the voice in six months, he recognized it immediately. So his mother thought she would be safe with her cousin, did she? He laughed. Who did she think was going to save their nosy relative?

Patrice pulled the car into the parking lot of a roadside café, grabbed her purse, and quickly rushed to the nearest phone booth to call her cousin. "Did you get in touch with Dobbin?"

"Yes," her cousin replied, "he's going to help you. Do you have a pen? I'll give you the number where he can be reached."

Patrice opened her purse, searching through it until she found a pen. "Ok, give me the number," she said. She folded a piece of paper and jotted down the number her cousin provided.

"Thanks, I'll call him in the morning," Patrice said, and then hung up the phone. She flipped through the worn phone book until she found the hotel listings. Finding the toll-free number of her favorite hotel chain, she deposited several coins and dialed the number to make a reservation in a town Erik wouldn't believe she would visit.


	4. Chapter 4

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Four

Erik crossed his arms, watching the lone car slowly drive up the road. He had phoned an hour ago and demanded a special meeting with his associates. The vehicle came to a stop, and Erik opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

The driver waited until the door closed before he spoke. "Why the change of plans?"

Erik glanced over his shoulder and watched Marsha Thomas' house burn. Turning back around, he buckled the seat belt and smiled. "You'll know everything when it's time."

The driver nodded, realizing the subject was closed. "A car has been purchased for your needs."

"Good," Erik remarked, and got down to business. "Did you trace the phone number I gave you?"

"Yes," the driver answered and flipped the sun visor down. An index card was attached to it, and the driver pulled it free and gave it to Erik. "That's your cousin's address, and also the same city where your rental car is waiting."

Erik chuckled.

The Next Morning:

Mary Margaret took a long sip of coffee, staring at the case files stacked on the edge of her desk. "God, I think they're multiplying."

"Consider it job security," Strenlich replied as he dropped another stack on top of the existing one.

"Has anyone heard from Peter?"

"If he's not here in ten minutes, he's going on report," Strenlich vowed, glancing at the missing detective's empty desk. "Some stranger calls, claiming to be from Interpol, and without checking out the person's story, Peter disappears without telling anyone anything."

"Caine was missing. You didn't expect Peter not to try to find his father, did you?" Skalany asked.

"We're talking about Caine, Skalany."

"Well, yeah, you know how Peter when it comes to him," she added, trying to play on Strenlich's sympathies. "Besides, Peter wasn't the only one concerned about him. We all were - Jody, Blake, and Kermit."

"That still doesn't excuse…"

The phone started ringing, cutting off Strenlich in mid-sentence.

"Skalany, 101st," Mary Margaret answered.

Frank waited, listening in amusement as Mary Margaret repeatedly tried convincing the caller they had the wrong precinct.

"I'm sorry, but there isn't a detective by that name who works here," Skalany said, growing agitated with the caller.

"Want me to take it?" Strenlich offered, holding his hand out to take the receiver.

Mary Margaret shook her head, ignoring Frank's assistance. "Look, I don't mean to be rude but it's possible your cousin gave you the wrong precinct." Skalany placed her hand over the speaker, and took a deep breath before returning to the caller. "Can you give me the person's last name? Maybe I can locate the detective for you."

The dark-haired detective started laughing. "I'm sorry," she apologized, stifling a giggle. "Yes, he works here. I'll connect you, hold on." Mary Margaret placed the caller on hold and dialed an extension. "You have a call on line three," she said and hung up the phone.

"Well?" Frank asked, waiting for her to explain the reason behind the call. "Are you going to share the joke?"

"Nope," Skalany answered, ignoring the pleas around her.

Karen Simms slammed the car door, walked to the back of the vehicle, and unlocked the trunk to retrieve her briefcase. Forced to attend another boring political meeting with the mayor and commissioner, she knew she had a long day ahead of her.

Halfway up the precinct's steps, she heard screeching tires in the parking lot. The familiar blue Stealth sped by, skidding into an empty parking place. The occupant hurriedly climbed out, darted across the parking lot, and started climbing the stairs, unaware of her presence.

Well the day just went to hell in a hand basket. Her insubordinate detective had returned, two days late.

Peter's face turned bright red when he saw his superior officer. "Uh...Captain, I wasn't..."

"Expecting to see me so soon, detective?" Karen baited. The young man opened the door for her, but she wasn't impressed with the gesture. "I, however, have been waiting to see you," she said ominously, and walked ahead of him into the building.

The captain stopped by Broderick's desk, picked up her messages, and signed the duty log before heading to her office. "Come with me, detective." She glanced at Frank. "You too, Chief."

* * *

**Braselton**

A car pulled into the quiet subdivision searching for a house. The driver located the address on the mailbox and pulled the vehicle into the driveway. He climbed out and walked up to the house. A wooden plaque hung by the door. He read the last name that had been proudly engraved into the plaque. Manse.

How quaint, he thought, as he knocked on the door. Seconds later the door opened and he stared into the shocked face of the owner. "Remember me, Cousin Marilyn?"

"Erik, Oh my God!" His cousin's hand flew to her mouth in horror. She tried to scream, but he shoved her back into the house and slammed the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

**Kaleidopy**

Chapter Five

The meeting over, Strenlich stepped out of Captain Simms' office and into the unusually quiet bullpen. Chairs squeaked as those present in the squad room hurriedly turned back to their computers and pretended to work. Apparently, the conversation inside the office hadn't been as private as he first hoped.

"Since everyone seems so interested, Captain Simms has made a few changes," the chief announced, taking his time as he paced up and down the main aisle. "Effective immediately, all time off must be approved two weeks in advance. No exceptions."

Griffin's office door opened, and the ex-mercenary rushed by Strenlich. "I'm taking the rest of the day off, Frank."

"I don't recall you getting permission."

"I don't recall asking," Kermit replied without looking back.

Kwai Chang Caine finished mixing the herbal concoction and gave it to the elderly Chinese woman. "Tell your son it must be taken until it is gone, not until he feels better."

"Thank you, Master Caine," the woman said, bowing respectfully. She sniffed the mixture and a scowl crossed her face. "I will be forceful. Shen never admits when he is sick. His cough is worse yet he denies it. He is very stubborn."

Caine nodded, understanding her words all too well. He walked her down the stairs where he bid her farewell, then went to meet LoSi for morning tea at their favorite sidewalk café.

Peter sat down at his desk, and Jody and Mary Margaret exchanged curious glances. They waited for an explanation regarding his disappearance, but Peter remained uncharacteristically silent.

"He's doing it on purpose," Skalany said.

"Maybe," Jody teased, turning her chair around to face their target. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Peter asked, looking up from the computer monitor.

"What happened to your father?" Jody asked, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "Who kidnapped him? Who was the guy from Interpol? Did he help you?"

"In other words, spill your guts, partner," Skalany added, grinning with mischief. She coasted across the aisle to Peter's desk and offered a bribe. "Squeal, and I might tell you Kermit's real name."

"I already know it."

"And you didn't share with your friends?" Mary Margaret slapped her hand across her chest and pretended to be hurt.

Strenlich moved closer, eavesdropping on the conversation. He glanced around the bullpen and lowered his voice. "Just what is Kermit's real name?"

"Uh ah."

"Uh ah?" three voices repeated in unison.

"It means I enjoy chewing," Peter answered. He turned to Mary Margaret and issued a friendly warning. "If you do know Kermit's real name, I wouldn't tell anyone if I were you."

"Come on, Mary Margaret," Jody pleaded, urging her friend to reveal the secret, "don't leave us in suspense."

"You'll be sorry," Peter sing-songed.

Skalany glanced at Peter, and sighed in defeat. "I've got work to do," she declared, gliding back to her desk. She picked up a pen and started writing. "Should we expect another call from the Interpol guy?"

"We might. The Interpol guy's my uncle," Peter revealed, smiling at the attention the announcement received. "He helped me rescue Pop."

"Uncle?" Mary Margaret shouted. "What does he look like? Is he older or younger than your father? Is he married? When are you going to introduce us to him?"

"Control your hormones, Skalany. Martin's in France visiting my grandfather." Peter added a mischievous grin of his own. "Behave yourself and I might consider introducing you to him, or my other uncle."

"Another uncle," Jody asked. "I thought your father was an only child. Kwai Chang Caine has two brothers he didn't know existed. This is amazing."

"Amazing isn't the word I would use," Peter remarked.

"Who's the other one," Frank asked, and went on the defensive when the three glanced at him. "Well, not that I care," he said. He walked to Blake's empty desk but stayed within hearing range.

Peter explained in detail what happened and how he became acquainted with his two uncles.

"You think Damon's changed?" Jody asked

"Pop thinks so and I've never known Pop to be wrong," Peter said with pride.

-[

Jason and Mitch Manse got off the school bus and ran across their lawn to the front door. Jason pulled out his house key and started to put it into the lock when he realized the door was slightly open.

"Mitch, stay outside," he ordered, holding his arm out to block his sister's path.

She waited until he stepped inside before she followed behind. "Mom?"

Jason glared at his sister and whispered harshly, "Yell a little louder, I don't think whoever broke in heard you." He moved further into the house, picking up the baseball bat that was kept in the corner and slowly entered the hallway.

"Mom," Mitch screamed, grabbing her brother's shirt to get his attention.

Jason turned and saw his sister's terrified face. She pointed at the table and screamed again.

He discovered his mother's unconscious body under the table and rushed to her side. He pressed two fingers against her neck to check for a pulse, and sighed with relief when he discovered she was still alive.

"Mitch," he said, grabbing his sister's hand in order to calm her down. "Run across the street and get Mrs. Johnson. She's a nurse."

Mitch wiped her tears, nodded, and rushed out of the house.

A cellular phone was on the floor just inches away from his mother's hand. Jason realized his mother had lost consciousness before she could call for help.

He grabbed the phone and dialed 911.


	6. Chapter 6

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_Kaleidopy_

**Chapter Six**

Inside St. Vincent's Hospital, Ashley Johnson comforted the Manse children while waiting word on their mother's condition. She was thankful Marilyn had been breathing on her own when she arrived to administer aid because if she had had to perform CPR on her unconscious neighbor it would have further traumatized the children.

Two detectives arrived and began their investigation. She and the children answered each question thoroughly, hoping it would lead to Marilyn's attacker.

"Marilyn put up a violent struggle before she passed out," Ashley said, explaining the condition in which she had found her neighbor. "She's lucky her attacker didn't stay long enough to finish the job."

"Was anything missing," one of the detectives asked.

"No," Jason answered. "Mom's purse was in its usual place and her money was still inside."

"That rules out robbery," the other detective commented.

"Jason, is there anyone you need to call?" Ashley asked, concerned that family members hadn't been notified.

"Uncle Kermit," Mitch said, speaking for the first time since they had arrived at the hospital.

"Kermit," Ashley asked, positive she had heard the name wrong.

"He's our uncle. Mom has his number at home." Jason turned to the two detectives, and asked. "Would you take me home so I can call my uncle?"

"Sure," the older detective replied. "It will give us a chance to investigate the house and see if forensic has found anything."

Inside the restaurant where her cousin instructed her to wait, Patrice Montgomery started on her second cup of coffee. She nervously watched the door, keeping a careful eye on the customers who entered. As the minutes slowly ticked away, her concern for her father increased.

"Waiter," she called, signaling the man to her table. "Could I have a phone, please?"

The waiter nodded, and returned moments later with a telephone. He placed it on the table, plugged it into the phone jack behind Patrice's chair, and left.

Patrice picked up the phone and dialed her home phone number. By the twelfth ring, her nerves were raw, and she feared the worse. She disconnected the call and started to dial Marsha's number, but someone approached her table. She glanced up, and sighed with relief. "Thank God it's you, Dob…"

"Kermit! I've told you before, don't call me that name," Griffin growled, taking the chair across the table. "The last person who called me that name came close to having their teeth chiseled out." He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and started wiping his side of the table. "How's Uncle Ben?"

"Can I get you something, sir?" the waiter asked, returning to the table.

"Coffee, black," Kermit answered, and waited until his beverage was served before he spoke again. "What's going on, Patrice? Marilyn was very brief, but mentioned you were in trouble and needed my help."

"It's worse than that," Patrice said, gasping for air. She turned her head and started crying, unable to keep her emotions checked. She took the napkin her cousin offered and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I told myself I wouldn't fall apart and now look what happened."

"It's alright," Kermit soothed, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Patrice, take your time and tell me what's happened, and how did you… "

"It's Erik."

"I haven't seen Erik in twenty years. What is he, thirty now?"

"Thirty-four," Patrice corrected. She cleared her throat and looked up. "Erik's dark and dangerous."

"Oh, come on, Patrice," Kermit sighed, releasing her hand. "Stop exaggerating."

"I wish I was, but it's the truth," she insisted, bringing her hand to her face.

"Where did you get that bruise on your cheek?"

"Erik," she whispered. "I fear he's done worse to Dad. I stopped at a gas station a few miles back to call the house and I couldn't get an answer. I tried calling my neighbor and the line was busy. Marsha has call waiting. There's no way her line would be busy this long."

"What does your neighbor have to do with Erik?"

"She saved my life, giving me her car so I could escape," she explained. "Kermit, I know I'm the laughing stock of the family, but I'm not exaggerating. Erik is evil, and he knows how to manipulate people. Somehow he manipulated me into revealing the name of his father."

"Yeah, the big family secret nobody discussed."

"It was for the best, Kermit. Erik's father never knew about him, and I simply didn't want to be tied down to a marriage." She lowered her eyes and revealed information she had kept secret for decades. "Erik was raised by my parents the first seven years of his life so I could advance my career in the publishing industry."

Kermit shot her a stern look. "What do you want, sympathy? Forget it."

"I wanted a career."

"Career hell. You were selfish and craved attention, even sinking so low that you used your pregnancy to get your name in print," Kermit said angrily. "Erik's father might have wanted to raise his son, or did that idea ever enter your mind?"

"Kermit, please, I don't need a sermon," Patrice pleaded. Erik would find her eventually and she needed her cousin's support and protection. "I had no way of finding Erik's father. We separated as friends, and two weeks later, I left for New York. I didn't know I was pregnant until two months later."

"You could have hired investigators."

"Yes, I could, but I knew he would have been miserable with my circle of friends. He would have never fit in," Patrice admitted, surprised by how much information she had revealed. Her surprise quickly turned to anger and she glared at her cousin. "You have no right to judge me when your life is…"

"Alright," Kermit interrupted, gritting his teeth angrily, "keep your voice down."

Patrice opened her purse and searched for her checkbook. "If you don't want to help me, then say so and I can get out of here."

"I didn't say I wouldn't help," Kermit said, placing his hand on top of her purse. She glanced at him, relief spreading across her face. "But," he continued, picking up his coffee cup, "I want to make something very clear right now. No more secrets."

"I have nothing to hide," Patrice answered.

"Who is Erik's father?" Kermit asked, taking his first sip of coffee.

"Why?" Patrice demanded, trying to keep her voice from sounding hostile. "I don't even know if he's dead or alive."

"Because I want to know everything before I get involved," he answered, leaning closer to his cousin. With the most intimidating glare, Kermit added, "Clear enough for you?"

"You don't know him," Patrice replied, still reluctant to answer Kermit's question. Her son's father wasn't famous. Why dig up the past now?

"Try me."

"What if I say 'no'?"

Kermit got to his feet. "Then I say, 'bye'."

"No. Wait, I'll tell you," Patrice pleaded. She waited until Kermit sat back down and returned to drinking his coffee before she finally revealed a name she hadn't spoken in over three decades. "Erik's father was Kwai Chang Caine."

Coffee spewed everywhere.


	7. Chapter 7

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_Kaleidopy_

Chapter Seven

Benedict climbed out of his rental car and studied the five-star hotel where he had been instructed to meet Erik. Leave it to Montgomery to reserve a room in one of the most luxurious hotels in the city.

He entered the hotel lobby, searching for the elevator. Moments later he found it and rode it up to the designed floor.

He found the room, knocked on the door, and waited until Erik opened the door.

"What kept you?" Erik muttered, allowing his guest entrance before slamming the door.

"There's nothing on the radio about your grandfather," Benedict said. "You don't suppose…"

"Who do you think is going to report it? The sheriff," Erik asked. He picked up the remote control and started flipping through the television channels. "That fat slob knows his re-election campaigns weren't financed so he could keep his job." Erik heaved a frustrated sigh and tossed the remote control on the bed. "With the prices this hotel charges, you would think they would have more than ten cable channels."

"When you called, you never mentioned your visit with your cousin this afternoon."

"My mother's cousin," Erik hissed, correcting the mistake. "Marilyn's a distant relative, just like apes are fabled to be."

"I take it she put you in this bad mood." Benedict folded his arms and waited. "What did you find out?"

"My father's alive and he's a Shaolin priest," Erik answered, waving his hand in front of his face. "Whatever the hell that means."

"Shaolin," Benedict said, repeating the word several times before something connected. "I remember reading something about them in a paper. Shaolin are a Buddhist sect dating back two thousand years ago in China. They only use kung fu as a defensive maneuver, never as a method of attack."

"A history lesson, Ben?" Erik asked, scrutinizing him carefully.

"Well, you wanted to know about Shaolin priests," he replied, growing annoyed. "What else did Marilyn tell you about your father?"

"She has to be crazy. She kept rambling utter nonsense about the old man having these special powers. She claimed he used them to exorcize demons from her house." Erik shrugged. "Actually, it could have been a ploy on her part, hoping I would believe it and be scared into leaving."

"You, scared? Now that's a laugh."

"I'm not kidding, Ben," the other man laughed, amused by the visit. "She acted like she believed what she was saying. It was weird."

"Maybe your father is a magician and fooled your cousin with some mind trick," Benedict suggested. "I've seen magicians and illusionist do some amazing things. They could fool a lot of people."

"He's no magician," Erik confirmed. "He's an herbalist living in Chinatown. Marilyn admitted that much."

"An herbalist? Then you and your father…"

"Just because we both know something about herbs and herbal medicines doesn't mean I have anything in common with that man," Erik countered. "If you remember, it wasn't my idea to take up the practice. My grandfather demanded I learn something about herbs or he wouldn't let me go with him on those overseas sites. The things Ben Montgomery made me do. Well, I got even with him, and I'll settle the score with a few others when our paths cross_._"

"I take it we are heading for Chinatown."

"Yes," Erik nodded. "We leave in the morning."

Kermit was stunned. Never would he have guessed Erik Montgomery's father was Kwai Chang Caine. He half-listened as Patrice told him about her brief affair with Caine. He couldn't imagine the possibility, but, then again, Kwai Chang Caine was an enigma. Nothing Caine did should surprise him.

His cellular phone started ringing, giving him the opportunity to completely tune out Patrice. He glanced at the caller ID, surprised Marilyn was calling again. Her calls were rare, and two in one day was an unexpected pleasure. "Hi Marilyn," he said, waiting for her familiar voice. Instead, his nephew answered, speaking so fast Kermit had a hard time understanding the boy.

"Jason, slow down," he instructed, listening as the teen became more coherent.

"Uncle Kermit, it's Mom," Jason said, pausing to catch his breath. "Someone attacked her and she's in the hospital. The doctor said she was still unconscious."

Fear swept through him, but Kermit kept his composure, not wanting to upset his nephew any further. "Jason, listen to me," he said, keeping his voice strong. "You're the man of the house. I want you to keep an eye on your sister until I can get there, understand?"

"Mitch is still at the hospital with our neighbor. I'm at the house with the police."

"As soon as they take you back to the hospital, I want you and Mitch to stay with your neighbor. The police will have an armed officer assigned to the house until the attacker is found. Give me the name of the hospital."

"Saint Vincent's."

"I know where it is," he said, waving the waiter to the table. "I should be there in one hour. If something happens, you call me."

"I will, Uncle Kermit. Bye."

The call ended, Kermit turned to the waiter. "We're leaving. There's a family emergency. We need the check."

Patrice pulled her sweater around her shoulders as Kermit paid the bill. "What's happened," she asked when the two were along again.

"Marilyn," he answered, getting to his feet. "She's in the hospital. Someone attacked her and left her for dead."

The two left the small restaurant, and Kermit ushered his cousin to the green Corvair. "I'll send someone to pick up your car," he said, starting the convertible.

The trip lasted forty-five minutes, and when Kermit reached the waiting room, Mitch rushed into his arms as a doctor stood by watching.

"They won't let me see Mom," the girl cried.

"Are you a relative of Marilyn Manse?"

"Yeah, she's my sister," Kermit answered, shaking the doctor's hand. "Is she going to be alright?"

"She's very bruised and in a lot of pain, but other than that, she should be fine," the doctor explained. "Just as a precaution, I'd like to keep her in the hospital overnight for observation."

"Can I see her?"

"It's going to be some time," the doctor said. "Mrs. Manse is undergoing some tests. I want to make sure she didn't suffer a concussion."

"That might be a few hours," Patrice commented, looking at her cousin. "What do you want to do?"

Kermit thought over his options and reached a decision. "I'm going to take Mitch home and make sure the kids are alright, and then I'm going to take you to see Caine. I'm sure the two of you need to get reacquainted and discuss a few things."


	8. Chapter 8

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Eight

An hour later, Kermit opened the convertible's door and helped his cousin out of the Corvair. He glanced to his left and noticed Peter's Stealth parked a few yards away. He had wanted a private meeting between Kwai Chang Caine and Patrice, but Peter's unexpected presence threw a monkey wrench into his plans.

"Where are we, Dobbin?"

Kermit cringed; hearing that name had the same effect as raking fingernails across a blackboard. "Patrice, if you call me that name one more time," Kermit hissed, but his cousin's hurtful expression caused him to soften the reprimand. He sighed in frustration, understanding Caine's aggravation whenever Peter called him Pop. "Do me a favor, please," he said, wrapping an arm around Patrice's shoulders and guiding her inside the building. "Don't call me Dobbin in public, especially where we are going. There's one person who would love to crack a few jokes at my expense."

"I guess I shouldn't bite the hand that feeds me," Patrice said, walking into the elevator. When the car started upwards, she added, "You never answered my question. Where are we?"

The elevator door opened, and Kermit walked out. "This, my dear," he said, waving an open arm, "is the home of Kwai Chang Caine."

"How do you know?" she asked, astonished that her cousin had required information in such little time. "Are you sure you have the right man? The man I knew was special. He…"

"Patrice, you are not the only person in the world who's had the pleasure of knowing the enigmatic, mysterious, almost magical Caine. He's lived here in Chinatown for nearly three years. He's one of few in this world I trust and call a friend."

Kermit led her down a hall, stopping when he heard voices coming from one of the rooms. "Stay here," he ordered, leaving her standing in the hallway.

He walked silently into the room Caine used as a workout/meditation chamber, watching as father and son moved gracefully in unison. He cleared his throat, feeling like a fifth wheel for intruding.

Caine nodded. "Welcome Kermit, I am honored."

"If I didn't know any better, Caine, I'd swear you were expecting me."

"You shouldn't be surprised, Kermit," Peter said, grinning with pride. "Pop knows everything."

"Oh, really?" Kermit taunted, taking off his green sunglasses to stare at Caine. "I've got an idea you don't know about this." He glanced over his shoulder and called, "You can come in now."

Patrice slowly walked into the room. She froze when she made eye contact with Caine.

Caine's eyes widened. "Patrice," the priest whispered, moving across the room to greet the visitor.

Patrice smiled sheepishly. "Hello, Kwai Chang."

Caine raised an eyebrow, studying her face before he reached out and lifted her chin to examine her bruised jaw. "Who did this to you?"

"I…" she turned her head away, unable to keep eye contact. "I have so much to tell you and I have no idea where to begin." She glanced briefly at Peter before adding, "If it's a bad time, I can come back another time."

"Don't mind me," Peter said, wiping his face with a towel. "If you need to talk to Pop, I can disappear for awhile."

"Pop?" Patrice asked, snapping her head around to look at Kermit. Her cousin nodded, and she slowly turned back to Caine with a look of astonishment. "I had no idea," she admitted, overwhelmed by the revelation. "But then again, after our broken engagement, I shouldn't have expected you to take a vow of abstinence."

"He didn't," Peter joked. The joke received a stern glare from Caine, and Peter wisely changed the subject. "Who is she, Pop?"

"Patrice Montgomery, my cousin," Kermit answered, introducing the woman to his friend. "Your father and my cousin were very close a few years before you were born." He glanced at his cousin, giving her a wink of support before turning to Caine. "She has something important she needs to tell you."

Peter stood transfixed before starting towards the door.

"No, wait." Patrice waited until the young man stopped and looked at her. "This involves you as well. I want you to stay."

Peter glanced at his father, seeking approval from the priest. Caine nodded briefly, then took Patrice by the hand and gently squeezed it. "Patrice, I can sense great distress and turmoil within you. You are afraid of someone. Is this person the one who hurt you?"

"You haven't changed, have you, Kwai?" She smiled and looked up at the priest. "You're still the same warm, caring man I knew all those years ago."

"And you are still the same woman I fell in love with," Caine replied, tapping a finger on her chin. "You still avoid my questions."

"I guess it's the moment of truth," Patrice said, taking a deep breath. "Kwai, we have a son."

"A son?" Peter asked, looking at Kermit. "Did she say what I thought she said?"

"She did," Kermit confirmed, moving to his stunned friend's side. "You're not the only one confused, my friend," he said, nodding in the bewildered priest's direction. "I think this is the first time someone actually knew something he didn't."

"His name is Erik," Patrice continued, undaunted by the confusion around her. "Kwai, when I ended our relationship, I didn't know I was pregnant. I didn't learn until two months later, and by then you had left town and I had no way of finding you." She sighed deeply. "The truth is, I never tried to find you, nor did I take responsibility for my actions or the consequences of my mistakes."

"Because you desired your career more than me," Caine replied sadly. "Patrice, I loved you more than…"

"I know, and I hurt you deeply. I was selfish, foolishly believing my happiness could be bought by the amount of dollars I earned. Never once did I consider yours or Erik's feelings, and worse, I robbed both of you of the chance to know one another," Patrice admitted, wiping a stray tear from her eyes. "I still remember your face the day I demanded my freedom. It's haunted me for years. I can only pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Had we remained together," Caine said tenderly, nodding towards his son, "I would have never met Laura, nor would I have the precious gift she gave me. Though Peter tries my patience at times, I would not have him any other way."

"As proud as you are of Peter, I'm afraid that's the opposite of what I feel for Erik," Patrice revealed. "I admit I was never a candidate for 'Mother of the Year', but our son always knew he was loved. His grandfather adored him, and Erik thanked him by betraying and killing him." She touched her cheek and winced. "Erik did this to me, and now I'm terrified of my own son."

"I've got a gut feeling he's behind Marilyn's attack," Kermit said. "Patrice called Marilyn and had her to get in touch with me. Erik's tracking Patrice, and he must have traced the phone call back to Marilyn."

"Marilyn was attacked?" Peter asked, concern etched in his voice. "Is she alright?"

"The doctor believes she'll make a full recovery, but they are keeping her overnight just for observation." Kermit added, "From what Patrice has told me about Erik, there's not a doubt in my mind he's behind Marilyn's attack. Either she's going to tell me, or I'm going to find the evidence to prove it."

"Want some help?" Peter volunteered.

"Peter," Caine chided. "Erik is your brother. Should you not try to help him, not find ways to push him away?"

"Speak for yourself, Pop," Peter protested, pointing a finger at Patrice. "Look what he did to her and tell me again he shouldn't be locked up."

Caine sighed deeply. "There is always another way."

"Yeah, I could shoot him with my gun," Kermit muttered.

Caine lifted an eyebrow but didn't respond to the comment.

"Pop, I just want to get some information on the guy and see what I can find out," Peter said, hoping to pacify his father. He turned to Patrice and said, "If you want, Kermit and I can drive up to your house and check on your father."

"Please. I would be so grateful," Patrice replied, smiling with relief. She reached into her purse, pulled out a key, and gave it to Peter. "It's the house key. Thank you so much for doing this for me." She looked back inside her purse and pulled out a card. "This has my address, phone number, and email address. You have my permission to search the house and grounds for as long as you need." She snapped her fingers. "I forgot, in case you lose the key, there is a spare under the welcome mat on the back porch."

Kermit snatched the key out of Peter's hand and pocketed it. "Just so you don't get any wild ideas," he said, responding to the younger man's surprised expression. "Before we drive to Bristol, I want to get a little background information on Erik."

"Peter," Caine called, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "If you find something on your brother, would you tell me first before you confront him?"

"I will, Pop," Peter promised, pulling his father into an embrace. "Don't worry, maybe Erik was on some medication when he attacked his mother. If that's true, he's not responsible for his actions."

Kermit glanced at Patrice, watching her response to Peter's suggestion. She slivered, and that told him immediately she didn't agree with Peter's statement. Kermit had his sources, and they told him Patrice's analysis of her son was correct. He had heard rumors for years that Erik had been involved in the black market, but until now had ignored the illegal activity. Marilyn's attack had made it personal.

"Come on, kid," Kermit said, ushering Peter out the door. "Let's see what we can dig up on big brother." He stopped and turned to his cousin. "Patrice, stay with Caine. Brinks and ADT combined couldn't protect you more."


	9. Chapter 9

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

**Chapter Nine**

"Nobody can be this good," Kermit declared, slamming his fist down on the table. Normally, his uncanny ability could track any person's personal information, but this time, the only thing he had found was frustration and a brick wall. "Erik has covered his tracks well," he admitted, "There's no paper trail linking him to anything illegal, and he makes sure he files his taxes on time so it doesn't raise a red flag to the IRS."

"If there's no paper trail, how come you're convinced he's involved in the black market?" Peter asked, leaning against the wall.

"Your father has his methods of finding the bad guys, and I have mine," he answered, scrolling down the web page. "Now, if you would be quiet so I can concentrate, I might…"

"I thought you could find anything on anyone with that computer in a matter of minutes. It's been two hours."

"Look, if you…" Kermit growled, jerking his chair around to face the younger man. He sighed, realizing how tired and irritable he sounded. "Sorry, I don't mean to take my frustrations out on you, Peter."

"Forget it," Peter said, sitting on the edge of the desk. "I'd feel the same way if it had been Carolyn or Kelly. How is Marilyn? You never said."

"A broken nose, bruised ribs, and a slight concussion," Kermit said, rubbing his eyes. "I thought she would be safe, after we…."

"Kermit, it's not your fault. Nobody could have seen this coming," Peter replied, placing a hand on the ex-mercenary's shoulder before standing. The young man walked to the closed door, and stood there staring out the glass-pane window.

Silence filled the room.

"Peter?"

No answer.

"Peter," Kermit shouted, finally getting his friend's attention.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about…"

"Your brother?" Kermit guessed, understanding how Erik Montgomery easily occupied his thoughts.

"Brother. That's hard to comprehend," Peter admitted. "And what if Erik's guilty? How is that going to affect Pop? I don't know thing one about this guy, and it bugs the hell out of me."

"I only met him once about ten years ago, and it wasn't pleasant," Kermit said, leaning back in his chair. "My Aunt Victoria, Patrice's mother, had died, and the family had gathered for the funeral. Erik refused to attend, claiming he didn't have the heart to watch his beloved grandmother being laid to rest."

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"I came back to the house and found the jerk going through Aunt Victoria's jewelry," he revealed, recalling the incident. "He argued I was mistaken and it wasn't what I was thinking. He returned the jewelry to prove his point. I never told Patrice or Uncle Ben. I figured they had enough on their plate that day."

The printer started running, printing out the information Kermit wanted. He picked up the paper and gave it to Peter. "It's not much, just Erik's social security number and his bank account information. Uncle Ben's Bristol house is listed as his home address. Bristol is a small town about two hours east of here."

"Forty-minutes," Peter countered, reading the paper.

"With the way you drive, I wouldn't doubt it," he muttered and got to his feet. "I'm going to check on Marilyn. While I'm gone, make some phone calls and see if you have any luck finding anything on Erik. When I get back, we'll drive to Bristol, check out the house, and do some digging around. I want to find out what the locals think of the man."

Though time had aged him, Kwai Chang Caine remained the same man Patrice remembered so long ago. Visitors dropped in unannounced, seeking advice and assistance, and yet the priest never complained and always making time for those who needed him.

"Are you always this busy?" she asked, watching him mix something in a bowl. "If you're not helping someone, you are creating herbal medicines."

"My community requires my assistance, especially with the flu spreading," the priest answered. He finished the mixture, and cleaned up the work area. "Patrice, you have neglected to tell me anything positive about Erik. Do you not believe our son is capable of redemption?"

"Erik isn't Peter, Kwai," Patrice said, trying to find the exact words to explain her son to his father. "There's nothing I can say positive about him that wouldn't be a lie. Erik is a bully, a thief, and, I fear, much worse. He thinks the world owes him a living, and he's not above hurting someone just to prove a point. He's nothing like Peter. You have raised a wonderful young man, Kwai. You should be proud of the way you raised him."

"I am honored, but Peter was taken from me when he was a child," the priest revealed. He told her of the temple's destruction, and the lies that had separated them for fifteen years. "When we were reunited, I discovered Peter had been emotionally scarred by the experience and, because of those scars, it was difficult to know the man my son had become. He had another family and," he sighed deeply and added, "another father."

"That must have been horrible for you," she replied sympathetically. Kwai Chang Caine was the most kind and gentle soul she had met, and for him to suffer such heartache alone for all these years broke her heart. She wanted to embrace him, to let him know she understood, but she feared he might rebuff her compassion as exaggeration. Instead, she said truthfully, "I'm glad you and your son are together again."

"As am I," Caine admitted with pride that Patrice easily detected. His expression changed and became serious. "Patrice, I reached Peter, and I would like the chance to do the same for Erik. He is my son, and I can do no less for him than what I did for Peter."

Peter turned the sound on the radio up in an attempt to stay awake. Rain had started falling and with the windshield wipers moving in an almost hypnotic rhythm, he found himself dangerously close to falling asleep.

He made the decision to investigate the Montgomery home without Kermit's assistance because he feared what Kermit would do if they uncovered Erik's involvement in Marilyn's attack. With Kermit occupied, he used the opportunity to drive to Bristol. If all went as planned, he would speak with the local police, investigate the house, and be back at the precinct before Kermit realized what had happened.

The instant he saw the Bristol city limits sign, he turned the radio off and slowed the car down to a respectful speed. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself before he spoke with the local police department.

As he entered the small town, streetlights casting an orange glow provided a path led visitors into the heart of the city. A white building caught his attention, and a large sign on the front lawn revealed that it was the city's police station.

Peter parked the car, walked inside the station, and found a heavyset officer sitting at a desk doing paperwork. Peter waited, hoping the man would acknowledge him, but when the officer kept writing, Peter cleared his throat.

"Just a minute," the officer said, stapling the papers together. The man placed them inside a drawer, and looked up. "I'm Deputy Simon. What can I do for you?"

"I need a little information," Peter said, pulling out his ID and showing it to the officer. "What can you tell me about Erik Montgomery?"

"I've known Erik for years. He's an outstanding young man, has a clean driving record, and does a lot for the local charities around here," the deputy answered. Simon folded his arms, and gave Peter a suspicious glare. "Now why don't you tell me the real reason why you're asking about Erik?"

"His mother claims he tried to kill her," Peter answered. "I just want to talk to him and get his side of the story."

"Well, you've got a long wait because Erik's out of town for a few days," Simon said, leaning over the desk. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, but aren't you out of your jurisdiction?"

"I'm just here long enough to ask a few simple questions, or is that against the law around here?"

"Not with Erik Montgomery, you're not."

"What are you," Peter asked sarcastically, "the president of his fan club?"

"You need a lesson in manners, sonny," Simon said, glaring at the younger man. "I don't care how you conduct yourself in the big city, but you're in Bristol now. Unless you want to spend the night behind bars, you'll show a little respect for the law in this town."

"Where's the Sheriff? Out chasing the Duke Boys?"

"Thank you, Jim Carey," Deputy Simon said, clapping his hands in mock applause. "And here I am without my autograph book."

"Look, just let me speak with the sheriff, and then I'll get out of your hair."

Simon yanked off his hat, showing his bald head. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Since you're not laughing, I guess it wasn't."

"You smart ass, big city detectives are all the same," the deputy growled, slapping his hat back on his head. He glared at Peter and pointed to a row of chairs across the room. "We don't have red carpet, but we do have chairs. So sit your ass down over there and wait until Sheriff Gryder arrives."

St. Vincent's Hospital

One hour later

"She's sleeping," the doctor whispered, waking Kermit from his slumber. He placed his hand over his mouth and stifled a yawn, listening as the doctor continued. "The CAT scans came back normal. There isn't any permanent damage, but I want to keep her an additional day just for observation."

Kermit nodded, acknowledging the doctor's statement, and waited until he was alone with his sister. He took her hand, squeezing it and then whispered, "I'm going to find who did this to you, Marilyn and when I do, they won't have a place to hide."

If she heard him, Marilyn didn't respond.

Kermit sat back and continued his vigil.

* * *

**Bristol**

Sheriff Ron Gryder walked into the police station, determined to send the nosy detective back to the city a little wiser about the Bristol police department. Simon's call had pulled him out of a very rewarding poker game and had cost him a winning hand. Someone was going to pay for that loss.

Simon saw him and pointed towards the wall where a young man kept pacing the floor.

"Detective Caine, I'm Gryder," he introduced himself, offering his hand to the stranger. "My deputy told me you wanted to know something about Erik Montgomery. The man is very respected in this town."

"So I've been told," the young man replied. "His mother..."

"Patrice Montgomery is a loon," Gryder stated, already knowing where the conversation was heading. If he wanted to get back to the poker game, he had to satisfy the snoopy cop and send him on his way. "Come inside my office. I want to show you something." He led the way into the small office, flipped on the light, and then opened the top drawer of his filing cabinet.

He pulled out a large folder and gave it to the detective. "Read a few pages and you'll understand what I mean."

The detective flipped through several pages, smiling at something he had read.

"She has a habit of calling in false reports. UFO sightings and other silly things," he informed him. "If Erik hadn't intervened, Patrice would be locked up in some mental home. The woman is nuttier than a pecan log."

"Ten calls in three months, and one was to report a peeking tom," the detective said, closing the file and returning it to the sheriff. "Who was the peeping tom?"

"A snowman," the sheriff answered, putting the file back and closing the cabinet. "She called the police department on Christmas Eve night, claiming there was a man staring at her from her kitchen window. As a cop, I'm sure you realize how busy Christmas Eves can be, especially with last minute shoppers buying before the stores close."

"Pickpockets, car break-ins, counterfeiters, shoplifters…"

"Exactly," Gryder agreed. "So I'm sure you'll understand my reluctance to send one of my deputies to the Montgomery's home to investigate another crazy call from Patrice. Out of respect for her father and Erik, I did. When my officer discovered the peeping tom was actually a snowman, I was ready to haul that woman in for filing a false report."

"Maybe someone was playing a joke on her."

"Some joke," the sheriff laughed. "Erik had paid the mortgage for a local family whose home was about to be repossessed, and the two kids from that family built the snowman on the Montgomery lawn to show thanks."

"Did Patrice know?"

"Ben and Erik did, so I just assumed she did, too. Nothing that woman does or says surprises me anymore."

"What about Erik's grandfather? Patrice told us Erik had killed him."

"She what?" Gryder shouted, pretending to be shocked by the news. Convincing the detective that Patrice Montgomery had a vivid imagination was all that stood between him and remaining on Erik's very lucrative payroll. "The nerve of that woman. Ben Montgomery was killed, but not because his grandson murdered him. Ben walked in on a robbery and surprised the thief. One of my deputies shot the intruder when he pulled a gun."

"Where was Erik at the time?"

"On one of his expeditions, I guess." The sheriff shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry you had to come out here just to chase another one of Patrice's wild tales."

"Thanks for your help, Sheriff," the detective said, offering his hand to Gryder. "I think I have all the information I need."

"I'm glad I could help you, son," Gryder replied, ending the handshake. He opened the door, and walked the detective out of the precinct. "If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"I'll do that, Sheriff," Peter answered before getting into his car.

Gryder watched the vehicle drive out of town and then walked back inside. "Hopefully that's the last we see of that guy," he said to his deputy. "Simon, next time some nosy detective starts snooping around, deal with him yourself and don't interrupt my poker game."

"I tried Ron, but the guy wouldn't take no for an answer," the deputy protested. "In fact, he was down-right persistent about getting some dirt on Erik Montgomery."

"Did you tell that cop anything?" Gryder shouted, fearful of what the deputy might have accidentally revealed. If Erik suspected a betrayal, his career was finished. "Simon, if you…"

"I didn't tell the guy anything, but I've got a feeling we haven't seen the last of him."

"Yeah, I feel the same way," Gryder admitted. He returned to his office, picked up the phone, and dialed a private number. He waited for the familiar voice to respond before he spoke. "Look, I know you told me not to call you, but we may have a problem."

"Again," Erik replied. "Gryder, I'm getting sick of paying you good money and getting nothing back for my trouble."

The sheriff listened to another round of insults from his benefactor, refusing to defend himself. The money was great, and being called a cowardly worm was a small price to pay.

He waited until Montgomery finished before he spoke. "This fellow is different, Erik. Unlike the news reporter, he won't be so easily dismissed."

"Was he alone?"

"Yeah, well…"

"If he gives you any more trouble, he'll have the same fate as that lawyer did a few months ago. Understand?"

"Understood," Gryder answered. "Any orders?"

"Yeah, I don't want anyone snooping around in my grandfather's house. Have one of your men watch it until I take care of business at this end."

The conversation ended and Gryder released a heavy sigh. "So much for getting back to the poker game before it ends."

St. Vincent's Hospital

Three hours later

Marilyn blinked her eyes twice before she finally opened them. It took a few moments before her eyes adjusted and she was able to recognize her surroundings as a hospital room. Confused, she turned her head and discovered her brother asleep in the chair, his hand clinching hers.

Erik Montgomery's face flashed in her mind, and everything that had happened came back in full force. Where were her children? They weren't in the room. Panicked, she tried calling her brother, but her voice sounded raw and was barely audible.

"Kermit," she called again, sounding a little stronger.

Her brother's eyes snapped opened, and he nearly fell out of the chair when he tried to stand.


	10. Chapter 10

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Ten

"My kids? Where are my kids?" Marilyn screamed, fighting against brother's embrace.

The door opened and several nurses rushed inside.

"It's alright," Kermit growled, stopping the group from approaching the bed. "Marilyn, listen to me," he said softly, relaxing her with his reassuring words. "Jason and Mitch are fine. They're safe and are with your neighbor."

Marilyn sighed, calmed by the knowledge that her children were okay. She relaxed, and Kermit released his hold on her.

"If you would step back, sir," the doctor asked, and waited until Kermit moved aside before he examined Marilyn.

Marilyn watched her brother move reluctantly to the foot of the bed, and allowed the doctor a chance to examine her. "When can I get out of here?" she asked, when the doctor finished his observation.

"When he releases you," Kermit answered, folding his arms tightly around his chest, "and not a second sooner."

"I don't recall him asking for a second opinion," Marilyn said, shooting her brother an angry glare. Her point made, she turned back to the doctor. "I have two children who no doubt are scared and worried about me. I have no intention of spending anymore time in this place than I have to, so please give me an exact time."

"Tomorrow, noon, if there are no further complications," the doctor answered, removing the stethoscope from his ears.

"It's just one night, Marilyn," Kermit added before she could protest. "Providing you take it easy and get some rest. I've already told you the kids are safe and with your neighbor."

"As much as I trust Ashley, she isn't the mother of my children," Marilyn protested.

"I've got several officers watching the house," Kermit said, reassuring her. "There's no reason for you to leave tonight."

"Now that that's settled," the doctor said as he left the room, "I'll check back on you in a few hours."

Alone with her brother, Marilyn got comfortable in the small bed and waited for the one question she knew Kermit would ask.

"Who did it, Marilyn?" Kermit asked, wasting no time getting to the point. "I've got a good guess who it was, I just want you to verify it."

"And what happens when I do?" she asked, watching her brother closely for any indication of his intentions. "What will you do?"

"You just let me worry about that," Kermit answered, not bothering to hide the meaning in his voice.

"That settles it," she said firmly. "As much as I want the man behind bars, I will not risk losing my brother in the same deal."

A cocky grin firmed across Kermit's face, and Marilyn realized she had made a mistake—she just revealed her attacker was a male. She turned on her side, intentionally blocking her view of her brother. She didn't trust herself under Kermit's scrutinizing stare.

"Marilyn," he warned, "If you don't name your attacker, he may come back and finish the job."

She rolled over, determined to stand her ground. "You said you could protect…"

"I can protect you and the kids, but I want the jerk's name."

"Will you arrest him or kill him?" she asked. "Answer the question, Kermit, or I won't tell you his name."

"I'll find him," Kermit promised. "With or without your help."

"You may bully everyone else, but you can't do it to me," she replied, seething at her brother's arrogance. "Flip the light switch, and don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Kermit angrily walked to the door. "I'm going to the precinct and pick up Peter. If you want to talk, you know how to reach me."

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied, and turned back on her side to stare at the wall when he left. Alone, she closed her eyes, and prayed someone captured Erik Montgomery before Kermit found him.

* * *

**Bristol**

Peter drove around the outskirts of Bristol for a while to make sure the sheriff hadn't ordered a patrol car to follow him. Convinced he wasn't being tailed, he drove back into town, taking the first side road that led away from the police department.

Confident the local police were in Erik's pocket, Peter decided to try a new approach. Experience had taught him that locals always had a different view of the so-called outstanding citizens.

He slowed the car, searching for someone who might be willing to provide a little information without the fear of retribution.

He started to turn down another side road, but something darted across the street in front of his car. He slammed on the brakes and nearly collided with a large dumpster.

Peter exited the car, his gun in hand, and took off after the object that had crossed his path.

"Don't shoot," a tall slim figure said. He emerged from the dark alley with one hand held high and the other clasping a beer bottle. "I want to speak with you."

"About what?" Peter asked suspiciously, pointing his weapon at the man. As he approached, it became apparent the individual was the town drunk. The man's clothes were wrinkled, dirty, and torn, and judging from his appearance, Peter guessed the man hadn't eaten in a few days.

"I saw you and Gryder standing inside the building, and neither one of you looked happy," the man said, slurring his words. "Gryder watched you drive out of town. I thought you had left until I saw that fancy car of yours a moment ago." He was slurring his words so badly that it was difficult to understand. "If you got the sheriff worried, then you've got a target on your back, just like me." In a sad voice, the drunk added, "I use to be somebody until…"

Peter reached inside his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He found a twenty-dollar bill and gave it to the man. "Go buy yourself something hot to eat," he said, walking back to his car. "I've got a house to investigate."

"The Montgomery home."

Peter spun around. "How did…"

"I was standing in the bushes beside the police station," the man admitted. "After you left, I crawled over to the sheriff's window. Gryder always keeps it open. He called someone and promised to send a patrolman to the Montgomery house in case you decided to show up there. I know he was talking to that Montgomery kid."

"You know Erik?"

"The devil's spawn, that one is," the man answered bitterly. "He destroyed everything I had—my job, my reputation and my life."

"Why would he do that?" Peter asked.

"Believe it or not, I use to work for the county coroner's office," the man said, explaining his situation. "About two years ago, the candidate running against Sheriff Gryder was found dead, but no wounds were discovered on the body. Gryder refused to investigate, claiming it was suicide."

"What does this have to do with Erik?"

"Let me finish," the man said. "Anyway, I got suspicious, so I did an autopsy and found the victim had been poisoned with water hemlock. Apparently, someone tricked him into believing he was eating parsnip. It wasn't a secret that Erik had an extensive knowledge of plants, so I put two and two together and took the evidence to the sheriff." The man took a deep breath and sighed. "Next thing I knew, I was thrown in jail and charged with obstruction of justice and corruption. Three days later, Gryder dropped the charges and released me from prison. I soon found out that I no longer had a job, and a reputation had been ruined. It was my word against Gryder's and Erik's, and nobody was stupid enough to challenge their authority."

"I'm a cop, but not local," Peter revealed, watching the man relax after his admission. "I came to Bristol as a favor to Patrice Montgomery. She was worried about her father, and feared her son murdered him. The sheriff and his deputy told me Ben Montgomery was murdered by an intruder."

"Intruder, ha! His own grandson killed him and their next-door neighbor, too. I overheard two deputies talking the other night, and they had orders to remove the bodies." The man continued in a sorrowful voice, "Ben Montgomery didn't deserve to die like that. He gave that boy everything."

"I'm afraid I have to tell Patrice the bad news."

"Poor woman," the man replied remorsefully, and then started staring at Peter strangely. "You sure you've never met Erik? You kinda favor him."

"No, I've never met the man," Peter answered, choosing to keep his relationship with Erik to himself. His half-brother had caused enough grief for the man, and Peter didn't want to add more to it. "Can I give you a lift somewhere?"

"No, but you best watch yourself," he warned, moving back into the shadows. "Strangers have a way of disappearing around here."


	11. Chapter 11

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

**Kaleidopy**

_Chapter Eleven_

Kermit stormed into the precinct, determined to use the first person that crossed him as a punching bag. Marilyn's stubbornness, the Bristol trip looming, and Erik's involvement in his sister's attack had left him in a dark mood.

He walked to Peter's desk, surprised to find it empty. Several uniforms caught his stare and lowered their eyes. No doubt, they were part of a conspiracy of silence. "If he went to Bristol without me…" he muttered as he quickened his pace to his office. The opened door answered any lingering doubts, and discovering the map was missing only confirmed his suspicions.

"Damn it!" he shouted, frustrated that the day from hell had just gotten worse. He grabbed the Desert Eagle, and asked the first uniform that crossed his path, "How long has Detective Caine been gone?"

"Three or four hours, sir."

"Great, just great," he growled, shoving the unfortunate man out of his way. "If anyone asks, Detective Caine and I are following up on a lead."

Kermit climbed into his vehicle and started the drive to Bristol. An hour into the trip, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed the hospital, determined to end the standoff between himself and his sister.

He requested Marilyn's room number, and called several reckless drivers some choice words while he waited to be connected.

"Hello?" Marilyn's sleepy voice answered.

"When do you plan to tell me who attacked you?"

"When you give me your word you won't retaliate," she snapped. "Do I have that, big brother?"

"Nope."

"Then there's nothing to talk about, is there?"

The line went dead.

"Damn it!" he shouted, redialing the hospital's number. "Connect me with the nurses' station on the third floor," he demanded. A female voice answered, and he said, "This is Detective Griffin. Let me speak to one of the officers guarding room 328."

A moment later, a baritone voice answered, "Officer Bass."

"Norman," Kermit said, recognizing the veteran officer's voice. "I'm glad you're in charge. Do me a big favor and make sure my sister doesn't leave the hospital until I arrive tomorrow. I'll be escorting her home. Understood?"

"You've got it, Kermit. Anything else?"

"No, thanks Norman," he replied, and ended the conversation. He smiled, assured the officer would follow his orders to the letter. "Two can play your game, little sister."

[ [ [

The night had been one to remembrance. An evening rainstorm had given way to a clear, starry, night sky. Aided with a full moon, Peter was able to drive down the isolated road without headlights. It worked well, allowing him to approach the Montgomery home without being seen.

He decided to be cautious, and parked the car behind the house in case the sheriff decided to send a patrol car to investigate as the drunk had mentioned.

Peter opened the glove compartment and retrieved a flashlight before he got out of the car. No lights were on in the house, leaving the impression that it was empty. He walked to the door, and finding no buzzer or bell, knocked on it several times before he gave up and peeked inside the front window.

The only thing he detected between the parted curtains was the faint glow emanating from the VCR clock. He heard a car in the distance, and hurried to hide behind some shrubbery just as it approached.

A spotlight appeared from inside the car, and the beam of light started probing the front lawn, the porch, and then slowly crept in his direction. Peter lowered his head, keeping himself concealed behind the brush, and waited until the spotlight moved away. The light was extinguished, and the vehicle traveled up the road where it turned into a neighboring driveway.

Peter lifted his head, finally getting the opportunity to find out who was spying on the neighborhood. A non-flashing emergency light adorned the top of the vehicle, and the inscription 'Bristol Police Department' decorated the side of the car.

The police cruiser pulled out of the driveway and slowly approached the Montgomery home. Peter held his breath, afraid he had been spotted, but the cruiser drove away and didn't return.

He flipped on the flashlight, deciding to go to the back of the house in case the police made a return trip.

The back porch was small and easily accessible from where he was standing. He climbed the steps and pulled back the welcome mat to found the key Patrice had mentioned.

Once inside, he closed and re-locked the back door and found himself in the kitchen. He moved into the hallway, using the flashlight to guide his steps. Expensive paintings decorated the walls, an obvious sign of the Montgomery's wealth.

A brief flash of light told Peter a car had pulled into the driveway. He darkened the flashlight and waited, listening as a car door slammed. Moments later, another beam of light streamed into the front room, probing the interior.

"There's nothing disturbed, Simon," a man's voice yelled. "I think the sheriff guessed wrong."

"Get in the car," another voice replied. "I'm hungry and this wild-goose chase has gotten old."

Peter waited until the car door slammed and the headlights faded before he moved. His shoulder hit the lower frame of a painting, knocking the picture sideways.

"Great," he muttered, turning on the flashlight to straighten the frame. As he adjusted the picture, something from behind the frame fell out and landed on the floor.

He pointed the flashlight's beam on the floor, and searched the carpet for the object that had fallen. A small gold key caught his attention. "I wonder what this opens," he pondered, picking up the key.

The flashlight's beam started to dim, and moments later it finally was extinguished. "Three year old batteries can't last forever," he said, walking back into the kitchen. With no replacement batteries, and not willing to risk being seen by the police, Peter went back to his car and tried to catch a few hours of sleep before daylight.


	12. Chapter 12

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

**Chapter Twelve**

**Bristol**

_Two hours later_

Kermit was convinced Bristol had a motto, and it was a big yawn. Even ghost would be bored if they haunted the town. For the past half hour, since arriving in Bristol, the only thing moving was a loose stop sign blowing in the wind.

The streets were empty, businesses were closed, and there wasn't a trace of the blue Stealth.

Dawn was breaking. Where had the night gone? Worrying over Marilyn had robbed him of time and patience.

"He's gone to the house," Kermit muttered, turning down a dark side road where he made a U-turn. Though it had been years since he last visited the Montgomery home, he knew where the house was located.

* * *

**St. Vincent's Hospital**

Marilyn opened her eyes, and noticed the hospital room had lightened considerably since she last awakened. Finally, after a long night, she could leave the hospital in a few hours. She rolled her head towards the small table, glanced at the clock, and realized it was 7 am.

Several hours had past since her brother had last phoned, and with the two armed guards standing outside her door, Kermit had no reason to reconsider his position. She was a grown woman with two children of her own, and still there were times when her brother treated her like a child.

She loved her brother, but what Kermit really needed was a good swift kick in the butt. In fact, she intended to give him one the second she saw him.

She reached over, picked up a magazine, and started reading it. She was into the fifth article when the phone started ringing. "Kermit, I'm through playing games with you," she shouted into the phone. "I am not going to tell..."

"This isn't Kermit," a voice on the other end responded. "I've got a message from Erik. He said to tell you that your neighbor is wearing a beautiful green dress and your son needs a hair cut."

"Who is...?"

"Interrupt me again and you'll regret it," the voice warned, angrily cutting her off. "Listen carefully because this is the only warning you'll receive. If you mention Erik's name when you describe your recent attack, then I'm afraid Mr. Montgomery won't be as generous as he was the last time he left your company. I assure you, Marilyn Manse, we have ways of learning the truth. To prove we are serious, one of the two officers standing outside your hospital room is actually on Erik's payroll. You won't know which one, but if you deviate from our orders in any way, your children will pay the ultimate price for your mistake. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice shaking. "I want your word, nothing happens to my children."

"Their fate is in your hands."

The line went dead.

Marilyn dropped the phone back into the cradle. "Oh God," she said, placing her hand over her mouth as she tried hard not to cry. "Kermit, why didn't I listen to you when I had the chance?"

The sounds of birds chirping woke Peter out of a restless slumber. He opened his eyes and moaned, instantly regretting his decision to sleep in the cramped vehicle. He shifted his head, moving it side to side to work out the crick in his neck.

He climbed out of the car, entered the house, and walked slowly down the hallway taking time to admire the paintings that adorned the walls before he moved into the large living room.

Twenty minutes later, and nothing to show for his trouble, Peter started towards the adjoining dining room. A faint noise caught his attention, and he stopped and listened, trying to decipher its origination.

Three very distinguished creaks told him there was an intruder upstairs and that the individual was unaware the wooden floors prevented any attempt to remain unknown.

Peter pulled out his gun and hugged the wall as he quietly climbed the stairs. He reached the top of the second floor and found the hallway almost dark. The doors to each room were closed, keeping the sunlight from reaching the hallway.

Another creak told him the intruder was inside the second room on the right.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the confrontation with the burglar, and with one specially placed kick, the door flew open.

The room was in total darkness, making it difficult to find a target. Hands yanked him inside the room and roughly threw him down to the floor. The impact jarred the gun out of his hand and his attacker was on him before Peter realized what had happened.

The unmistakable feel of a gun barrel nozzle was placed under his chin.


	13. Chapter 13

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_Kaleidopy_

_Chapter Thirteen_

The gun's barrel pressed harder into his skin and Peter tried focusing on his attacker. In the darkness, all he could make out was a shadow looming over him.

Bad mistake. Peter swung out, striking his opponent upside the head with his fist and knocked him to the floor.

"Damnit!" an angry voice hissed in the darkness.

"Kermit?" Peter called, recognizing the voice. He stood up and listened to the rustling of fabric.

A flame flickered and the room lit up, revealing a very angry ex-mercenary holding a cigarette lighter.

Griffin walked to the door and flipped on the light switch. After a brief search, Kermit found his sunglasses. An angry scowl crossed his face. "Caine, if you've broken my glasses I'm going to beat the hell out of you."

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Griffin asked sarcastically and pointed a finger at the younger man. "I told you to wait for me, but no. Just like always, you never listen. I have a good mind to..."

"Glad you're here, Kermit," Peter interrupted, flashing his most convincing smile at the older man. "I can really use your help. The so-called law enforcement in this town is closed lip whenever someone mentions Erik's name."

"And playing the part of the arrogant ass, you demanded answers from the sheriff, didn't you?" Kermit raised an eyebrow. "No doubt that cop has called Montgomery, and now Erik knows we're here. What were you thinking? Hasn't anything Blaisdell taught you registered in that small brain of yours?"

"Well, I guess I might as well confess everything I told him," Peter said glaring at his co-worker. "I told him where you buried Hoffa's body and how you created the Bermuda Triangle. When the sheriff gave me this wicked look, I couldn't take it anymore. I'm sorry. Kermit, but I told him about the time you hacked into Mattel's website to learn Barbie's fashion secrets."

"There's nothing on the second floor," Kermit muttered, storming past Peter as he left the room. "Thanks to you and Marilyn, the past two days have been shot to hell. Both of you are really starting to tick me off."

"Well, if you wouldn't..."

"And I wouldn't open my mouth if I were you," Kermit yelled from the hallway.

"Definitely not a morning person," Peter commented before following after him.

Erik walked to the back of a building and glanced up in order to find the fire escape that led to the top. An elderly Chinese man had given him instructions on how to find Kwai Chang Caine's apartment, and mentioned the two ways to enter his father's home. He would take the elevator when it came time to meet his father.

He pulled out his cellular and dialed a number. "Benedict," he said, addressing his business associate. "Any word from our contact?"

"Yeah, the meeting is scheduled for noon tomorrow," Benedict answered. "The location's set. I suggested your house, or should I say, your grandfather's house, for the meeting. It's an out of the way location and they seem most anxious to get the merchandise and leave town."

"Perfect. Things are going great on this end too," Erik laughed, shifting the phone to the other ear. "I found a quack who would prescribe pills to the Rock of Gibraltar if given the right amount of money. He gave me a half-enemy bottle of anti-depressants, typed mother's name on the label, and dated it so it will appear she's missed several dosages. I think that should convince anyone she's delusional and has hallucinations. If everything goes as planned, nobody will believe a word she utters."

"Yeah, well..."

"Well, what?" Erik snapped.

"Look, Erik, you know I trust your judgment, but what about Badger?" Benedict asked. "You promised him that artifact, and now you're reneging on the deal. I'm telling you, he's not the type of man you want to double cross. He's dangerous, and I've heard some rumors about him. I don't know about you, but the man scares the hell out of me."

"Calm down, Ben. I've handled bigger fish than Badger," Erik answered with an irritated sigh. "The man collects artifacts, and if someone tripled the offer he made, he would be doing exactly the same thing I'm doing. It's only business. Trust me, will you?"

"Alright," Benedict answered, a little uncertainty still lingering in his voice. "Later."

The phone conversation ended.

Erik chuckled as he placed the phone back into his jacket pocket. Benedict worried too much over silly things. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost ten. It's time we met Father."

* * *

**Bristol**

Peter finished hanging up the last of Patrice's wardrobe and then closed the closet door. He walked down the hallway, calling out his findings to Kermit. "Patrice must have single-handedly kept every department store in business for decades. I've never seen a bedroom with three walk-in closets, but there's nothing that valuable that it would cost someone their life."

"If anyone actually thinks I'm going to believe Patrice's father was murdered because he interrupted a burglary, then they seriously should consider getting into another line of business. Overturned furniture, clothes thrown on the floor, and opened drawers are one of the oldest ploys in the book. Even the three stooges wouldn't have been fooled by this staged crime scene."

He walked into the living room and found Kermit running his hand under a ledge of a wall-length bookshelf. "Bingo," Griffin muttered. A click sounded and the bookshelf slid several feet to the left, revealing a concealed door. "I think we just found the lock your key opens."

Peter reached into his pocket, found the key, and gave it to Kermit.

Griffin opened the door, entered the darkened room, and then returned. "After you," he announced, holding his arm out towards the dark entrance. "Watch the first step, it looks like a stairwell.

Erik quietly entered the rooftop apartment and was surprised to find the place deserted. "Hello," he called, listening to his voice echoing off the long hallway. The effect made the place sound bigger than it appeared. "Is anyone home?"

He went room to room, searching the apartment for pictures and mementos, hoping they would give him an idea of how to deal with the enigma called Kwai Chang Caine. He knew absolutely nothing about the so-called priest, and what little information he had gotten he had beaten out of Marilyn.

He opened the balcony doors and walked outside. Shrubbery and plants, all different shapes, sizes, and colors, adorned the small area, giving the place a peaceful presence. He suspected the balcony was a retreat for his father, and the perfect place to learn the secrets of Kwai Chang Caine. 'I wonder what the old man does out here when nobody is around?' he mused to himself as he planted the first of three surveillance devices under one of the chairs.

He walked back inside to continue his tour of the apartment.


	14. Chapter 14

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

**Kaleidopy**

Chapter Fourteen

Benedict sat behind an old beat up oak desk contemplating his next move. Erik's brief phone call promising Badger wouldn't be a problem did nothing to reassure his growing fears of dealing with the vindictive customer. Erik was the self-proclaimed leader of this so-called organization. Why wasn't he dealing with Badger?

Why, because the money was too good to disobey orders. He sighed, resigned to his fate.

He grabbed the telephone, dialed a number, and waited for the voice he feared more than Erik. "Badger, I'm going to make this quick and come straight to the point. Erik has received a better offer for the scepter. I'm sorry to be the one to tell…."

"Sorry?" Badger's calm laughter was the last thing Benedict expected. Why wasn't he screaming his lungs out for losing a multi-million dollar artifact? "Oh, my friend, you don't know the meaning of the word." Badger's laughter took on a maniacal tone that made Benedict's skin crawl. "But I'm going to enjoy teaching you and Erik what the word sorry means."

"Badger, I know that you're upset," Benedict said, trying to sooth him. Erik had doubled-crossed Badger, not him. He should be the one to handle this mess. "Erik's not here, but I'm expecting a telephone call from him any minute. Call back in an hour and I…"

"Nobody breaks a bargain with me without paying the ultimate price," Badger threatened.

The line went dead before Benedict could respond.

That did it. His life was worth more than Erik's greed. Benedict opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a leather briefcase. He grabbed his car keys off the desk and headed for the door.

The telephone rang and Benedict froze. In his haste to leave, he had forgotten that Erik was supposed to call. He dropped his keys into his coat pocket and grabbed the phone. "Erik, I want to see you…"

"What a coincidence. I want to see him too."

Benedict's hand started shaking. Never would he have expected the man to call right back. "Badger, listen. I…"

"No, you listen," he shouted. "I want Erik's location and I want it now."

"I don't know where he is at the moment," Benedict lied. He was not about to make himself a target for Erik's wrath. Once this conversation was over, he was getting out of town and warning Erik. "I told you that he's supposed to call…"

"It will be most unfortunate if I find out you're lying to me, Benedict. You never know when the brakes could fail on that new yellow Corvette of yours."

Benedict felt his stomach drop. How long had Badger been spying on him? He had just purchased the Corvette yesterday, and not even Erik knew about the vehicle.

"How did you know about…"

"And as for Erik," Badger continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I hear Chinatown is beautiful this time of the year."

The line went dead.

"John, get in here," Benedict shouted at the closed door. "Now!"

Heavy footsteps announced the arrival of a man as the door opened.

"You're taking a trip," Benedict said, tossing the briefcase to him before calling another associate on the intercom system. "It's me. John needs the helicopter. He's carrying vital information that Erik needs for a business transaction. I want you to make sure nothing stops John from getting this information to Erik. Understand? Good." He hung up the phone and opened the center desk drawer, looking at John as he pulled out two hand guns. "Make the delivery to Erik and then, if you value your life, make yourself disappear."

"What's going on, Benedict?" John asked, concern etched in his voice.

"Erik's double-crossed the wrong guy," Benedict answered, tossing one of the weapons to the other man. "We're being stalked by a madman, and, whether Erik likes it or not, I'm getting the hell out of here."

John hurried to the elevator gripping the briefcase handle so tightly that his hand started to sweat. He anxiously watched the digital numeric pad light up the floor numbers as the elevator climbed to the rooftop.

The doors opened and he stepped out to find the helicopter sitting on the helipad. Surprisingly, the rotary blades weren't moving. He quickened his step, expecting the pilot to be waiting for him, but as he reached the helicopter, he discovered the pilot hunched over the control stick.

"Going somewhere?"

John turned to see a tall man glaring at him. No introductions were needed. He knew the man was Badger.

"Give me the briefcase."

John retreated a few steps, trying to distance himself from the taller man. "Benedict gave me…"

"Benedict isn't here. I am," Badger said. He moved closer and repeated his demand for the briefcase.

John kept backing up until he reached the edge of the roof. He looked in all directions, searching for an escape route. Before he could locate the fire escape stairs, Badger grabbed him by the throat and lifted him in the air.

A blast of wind hit him in the face as Badger dangled him over the roof. "I will not ask you again," Badger said, grinning maniacally. "Give me the briefcase."

John didn't hesitate: he handed the briefcase to the man.

"What's the combination?"

"I…I don't have it," John confessed. "Only Erik and Benedict have the combination."

"Then that makes you expendable," Badger replied, releasing the man.

John's eyes widened in horror. He screamed until his body hit the concrete sidewalk five floors below. The last sight he had was the pure evil plastered on Badger's face.


	15. Chapter 15

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

**Kaleidopy**

Chapter Fifteen

Kermit reached the bottom of the stairwell, straining to find anything in the darkness. The cigarette lighter provided enough lighting to prevent him from falling on his ass. Unfortunately, Peter wasn't as patient, choosing to search in the darkness ahead of him.

A moment later, Peter stumbled over something and fell to the floor. "Damn it," the younger man muttered.

Kermit stifled a grin and started in Peter's direction. When the light source passed over a panel with two black switches, he turned his attention to it. "Come here," he called and flipped the first switch.

Metal clanging forced both men to spin around in the direction of the stairs. Kermit held up the lighter, watching in awe as the steps disappeared inside the pole that had supported the spiral staircase. He flipped the switch again, hoping it would open the staircase. It didn't.

"Looks like I just cut off our escape route," Kermit admitted, realizing he had flipped the wrong switch. He paused, reluctant to flip the remaining switch.

"Go ahead," Peter urged him. "We've got nothing better to do than sit in the dark."

Kermit flipped the second switch and nothing happened. "I wonder what that did."

"Let's hope it wasn't a silent alarm to the police."

Kermit opened the panel box and looked inside. Eight small, black switches, each labeled, stared back at him. "Well, well, well, it looks like Lady Luck has finally shined on us," he stated, and started flipping switches.

Darkness quickly turned to light as the ceiling came alive with glowing light fixtures.

Peter whistled. "What is this place? An underground museum?"

Kermit walked further into the room amazed at the size and magnitude of the place. The room was huge, rivaling a football field in length. Display cabinets and cases lined the back wall, set up in sections, almost like a classroom.

He noticed a ladder built into the wall and followed it to the top where he discovered a catwalk stretching around the room.

His attention drifted back down to eye level. To his right, easels held many priceless paintings from well-known artists. He recognized several paintings from Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Paul Cezanne, Vincent Van Gogh, and Williams Blake. If any were counterfeits, the artwork would have fooled many experts.

"Kermit, get over here," Peter called, looking inside a display case. "You aren't going to believe this."

He walked over and looked inside. Gold coins, some centuries old, and others that dated back thousands of years, were carefully displayed in airtight containers. Kermit moved to another display case, astonished at the valuable treasures he discovered.

Each exhibit became more valuable with every display he observed. Precious stones and jewelry were presented by eras and origination.

"This idiot must have robbed every museum and art exhibit around the world," Kermit stated, looking at Egyptian artifacts and jewelry dating back to the second and third dynasties. "These priceless items should be locked away in some vault surrounded by armed guards."

"How did Erik get them?"

"My guess? He used Uncle Ben to get him close to the merchandise, and then later paid some museum attendant to smuggle the merchandise to him. A duplicate was made to replace the original, and nobody was the wiser. Who would question Ben Montgomery's credentials? Or for that matter, his grandson, the man Ben had personally groomed to replace him?"

"The ultimate betrayal."

"Oh, yeah," Kermit commented. "Patrice mentioned the gold key, and from her description, it's the same key you found. Apparently, Ben discovered this room and confronted Erik. Erik killed Ben to keep his secret safe, and once he convinces the authorities that Patrice is a loon, there's nothing to stop him from inheriting the house. With the house in his name, Erik doesn't have to worry about someone stumbling across this treasure trove."

"I thought my uncle was evil, but Damon doesn't hold a candle to this character." Peter turned his attention to the ladder. "I'm going to see if I can find another way out of here."

"But you just purchased this car yesterday," the car salesman protested as he stared at the yellow sports car. The man looked at Benedict and asked, "Is something wrong with the Corvette? Did you prefer the convertible model? Is that the reason why you want to return it?"

"I want a van, a conversion van to be precise. Is that too much to ask?" Benedict looked around the huge car dealership, trying to make sure he wasn't being watched. Nervously, he wiped his hands on his slacks and started tapping his foot. "Just get me the biggest conversion van you have in this parking lot."

"Do you have any idea how big the gas tanks are on those things?" The salesman pointed his thumb over his shoulders to where the fleet of Chevrolet vans was parked. "I'm surprised you would want one with the price of gas these days."

"I need another car. It's simple as that. I'll throw some extra cash in your direction if you can get me into a van without the hassle of unnecessary paperwork," he whispered. He pulled out a thousand dollars and gave it to the salesman. "I need to get out of here…fast."

The salesman counted the money and said, "I've got just the right van for you." He pointed to a blue Chevy Express 3500 Mega Tow Conversion Van with dark-tinted windows. "It's got everything: a TV, DVD player, four captain chairs, stereo sound system and the back seat folds down into a bed. It will only…"

"I'll take it and it will be a cash sale."

"If you insist. I have the keys hanging in my office. If you would follow me, I'll have you in that baby in five minutes."

"The sooner the better," Benedict replied, walking behind the man. He suddenly felt the urge to turn around, and, when he did, he thought he saw movement near the blue van. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and when he reopened them, nothing was there. Perhaps there never was. He shook his head and dismissed it as nervousness. 'The sooner I cut my ties with Erik, the better I'll sleep at night.'

As Peter climbed the ladder, he was amazed by its sturdiness. Someone had put a great deal of money into this place to keep it secret and safe. He noticed a five by five foot square outline in the ceiling.

He reached the top and pushed slightly on the square. It easily opened and Peter climbed up into the darkness. Something soft touched his cheek, and when reached out to push it away, he heard a hanger scrapping along a clothes rail.

He was inside a large closet.

The closet was the same length and depth as the ones he had searched in Patrice's bedroom, but, unlike those, this one was almost empty. He carefully climbed to his feet, making sure he cleared the hole and made his way to the closet door.

Faint light guided him to the doors, allowing him to push them open and step into a large bedroom. It wasn't the same upstairs bedroom he and Kermit had mistaken each other for intruders earlier.

He stepped into the hallway, wanting to know which room the secret exit had taken him to before he returned to the closet and made his way back down the hole.

Peter pulled the square back in place and climbed down the ladder. He dropped to the catwalk and found Kermit standing over another display case.

"I've found a way out," he announced as he reached the floor. "There's an escape route that leads to an upstairs bedroom."

"This is unbelievable," Kermit said, tapping his finger on the glass. "I think everything's here but the Hope Diamond."

A phone started ringing and both men jumped at the unexpected sound.

Kermit pointed to a nook in the wall and made his way to the phone sitting on a small ledge.

The phone rung three times before an answering machine clicked and a male voice responded. "Leave a brief message with your phone number at the beep."

"Short and sweet," Kermit remarked, leaning closer to hear the message.


	16. Chapter 16

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_Kaleidopy_

Chapter Sixteen

The drive down the country road relaxed Benedict, and he had to admit the van handled better than he thought. His reputation for expensive cars was well known, and he hoped by driving the big van that he could keep Badger from recognizing him so easily.

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Surprised, he picked it up, wondering if the caller was Erik. Nobody but Erik and a few business contacts had his private cell number.

"Yes?"

"Sir? Have you heard about John?"

"John is carrying vital information to Erik. For his sake, he better not be late."

"He's dead, sir," the voice revealed. "It's all over the news. His body was found in the alley. The police are ruling it a suicide. He supposedly jumped off the roof after killing the helicopter pilot. What are your orders, sir?"

"Call Erik's cell number. I'll try his house and his personal numbers. If you reach him, warn him and then get out of town." Benedict ended the conversation and pulled over to the side of the road. Sweat formed across his brow as panic set in. What was he going to do? He knew Badger had killed John and the pilot, but he couldn't prove it.

He dialed Erik's cell number and listened, counting the rings until it reached twelve. He ended the call, wondering if Badger might have gotten to Erik, too. No, Badger would save Erik until last, wanting to savor every moment of the hunt, and torment his adversary as long as possible.

Perhaps Erik had returned to his family home to prepare for the meeting tomorrow.

He placed a call to the private line that went directly to the secret room.

"Erik, I've tried your cellular and couldn't reach you," he said, speaking into the answering machine. "I hope you get this message in time. Badger is after you. He's killed John and is stalking me. I warned you not to double cross him. Forget the damn deal. No amount of money is worth this."

"Who's this Badger character?" Peter asked as the answering machine light started blinking. "You heard of him, Kermit?"

"Can't say that I have, but if he means trouble for Erik then I want to shake his hand." Kermit stifled a yawn. "God, I'm tired and I still have to go to the hospital and try to talk some sense into Marilyn."

"You want me to talk to her?" Peter volunteered. "Marilyn knows what a temper you have. I might be..."

"You keep your nose out of my personal business, kid," Kermit warned. Marilyn was family and nobody was going to deny him vengeance, not even his best friend's son. He glared at Peter, making sure the younger man understood. "The only thing I want you to do is show me how to get out of this house."

Peter hesitated but wisely did as he was told.

Benedict ended the call and started to pull the car back onto the highway when the phone started ringing again. Finally, Erik had gotten his message. "Where have you been?" he answered, convinced the caller was Erik. "Do you have any idea what's been going on?"

"Of course I do," a voice answered softly, but Benedict recognized the caller instantly.

"Badger, how did you get this number?" Benedict's hand shook with fear. His cell number was private and only Erik and two others had the number. "What kind of game are you playing with me?"

"Game? I thought you liked games, Benedict," Badger whispered and then sighed. "Haven't you and Erik been playing hide and seek with me? Well, it looks like the game is finally over."

"Where are you?"

"Why don't you look behind you?"

Startled, Benedict looked into the rear view mirror. Badger's reflection stared back at him.

"Tag, you're it."

Benedict's scream froze in his throat. Something hit him above the ear and darkness claimed him.

Erik squeezed the medicine bottle in his right hand as he rode the cargo elevator up to Kwai Chang Caine's apartment. Ten minutes ago he had watched a man enter the building with his mother hanging onto his arm, and neither seemed to be aware of the rain that had started to fall.

He had spent the last two hours on the streets in Chinatown pretending to be searching for the Shaolin priest. Only a select few were willing to offer information on the father he never knew, and from everything he learned, Chinatown considered Caine a hero.

Actually, his father was more than a hero; he was the residential healer, advisor, and friend. Chinatown was a close-knit community, but the few citizens who were willing to speak to him about his father never spoke a negative word against him.

Erik was positive most of the information he had collected was myth, but he wasn't about to risk endangering his plans by denouncing it as such. One mistake during the upcoming meeting and his father would see right through his deception and everything would be lost.

As the elevator door opened, Erik heard his mother's irritating voice coming from the large room down the hallway. A male voice started talking and then abruptly stopped.

Apparently, the great Kwai Chang Caine had detected him. Erik picked up his pace, deliberately making noise to announce his arrival. "Hello, is anyone home?"

"Erik," his mother gasped.

"It is all right, Patrice," Caine's voice responded. "It is time I met my son."


	17. Chapter 17

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

**Kaleidopy**

Chapter Seventeen

Kermit pulled the green Corvair into an empty parking space in front of the hospital, and watched the rain splash unabated against the windshield. He switched off the engine and decided to wait out the rainstorm.

He glanced into the rear view mirror and saw the familiar blue Stealth pulling into a parking space two sections behind him. He slammed his hand against the steeling wheel, furious that Peter had deliberate ignored his wishes.

He was out of his car before the Stealth's parking lights were off.

"Hold it right there, Peter," Kermit shouted, crossing the parking lot as Peter climbed out of the car. "I thought I made it clear that you're not going to question Marilyn until she tells me who attacked her."

"Oh, come on, Kermit, she's not going to do that and you know it," Peter said, trying to reason with him. "She's just as stubborn as you, and twice as determined not to tell you a damn thing."

"Wanna bet?"

"You'll be here all night."

"Then it will be quiet for a change, won't it?" Kermit stated. "Go home, Peter, and get some sleep. You look like hell."

"You looked in any mirrors lately, Kermit?"

"I'm warning you," Kermit said, pointing a finger at the younger man. "I better not see you anywhere near my sister's room or you'll be in one yourself. Understand?"

Peter squared his shoulders in defiance.

Several visitors ran for cover as the rain turned heavier, soaking both men, yet neither one moved.

An elderly lady climbed out of her Lincoln Continental, opened her large umbrella, and made her way in Peter's direction. "Peter Caine? Is that you?"

"Mrs. Hampton," the young man asked, "what are you doing here?"

"My youngest daughter is having a baby," the woman answered with a dissatisfied sigh. "I see some things never change. I suppose you forgot your umbrella like you did your math assignments." She shook a reprimanding finger at Peter. "You would forget your head if it wasn't attached to your body. Now get under this umbrella before you catch pneumonia."

Kermit laughed to himself, watching his friend crumble under the scrutinizing stare of a former high school teacher. No criminal was beyond Peter's reach, but his friend was completely helpless against the full fury of this senior citizen.

Peter glanced at him, silently pleading for assistance. When the ex-mercenary merely grinned, Peter knew he had been beaten. "Thanks anyway, Mrs. Hampton, but I'm heading home. Good luck with your new grandchild."

"Thank you," she replied, grinning with pride. "I hope it's a girl this time. Six grandchildren and everyone is a boy."

Peter turned to Kermit. "I'll call Simms and let her know where you are," he said walking back to the Stealth. "But I'll be back first thing in the morning and don't think you can stop me either."

"I'm counting on it," Kermit shouted, thankful the woman had chosen that moment to chastise a former student. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Peter, and Mrs. Hampton had taken care of the problem for him without blood being shed. He turned his attention to the retired teacher and greeted her with a warm smile. "I'm here visiting my sister," he admitted, offering his arm for her to take. "We seem to be heading in the same direction, would you allow me to escort you inside?"

"Yes," the woman said, allowing Kermit to stand under her umbrella. She looked up at him and in the sweetest voice, asked, "Son, didn't your mother teach you to come in from the rain?"

Erik walked slowly into the room, masking his amusement at the man standing next to his mother. His father looked like a refugee caught in some bizarre 1960's time warp with his wispy, long gray hair and sandals. So much for competition. Caine would be no match for him.

Erik extended his hand and offered it to Caine. "I'm Erik. I understand you may be my father, Mr. Caine."

"My son," Caine whispered, clasping his hand into Erik's.

Erik could feel the compassion in the man's voice and he decided to play upon those emotions. "What do I call you? Father? Dad?"

"You may call me either, or just Caine," the priest answered. His hand came up and touched Erik's cheek. "I am very pleased to meet you. Your mother only told me today of your existence and that you were my son." The priest turned and held out his arm and spoke graciously. "Welcome to my home."

Erik forced himself to smile, but the way the priest kept staring at him made him uncomfortable. He felt as though the dark hazel eyes could see straight through him. He laughed nervously. "I hope you don't believe everything you hear."

"I do not cast judgment without reason," Caine replied. "Please come in. Would you like some tea?"

"No thanks, sir. As much as I'm honored to finally meet you, that's not the reason I'm here," Erik said, and then turned to his mother. If he had any hope of convincing his father that Patrice was unbalanced, he had to be passive and compassionate towards his mother, even appear betrayed by her aspersions.

"Mother, I've been trying to find you for days. You left without taking your pills." He glanced back at the priest, and sighed. "I hope she hasn't given you any trouble. Mother gets a little emotional without her medication and in some cases, she's had delusions."

"Your mother has been very calm," Caine commented as he looked at Patrice. "She is not having problems emotionally."

Erik sighed. "Thank goodness I got here in time." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little bottle. "The last time Mother missed taking her medicine, I got a call from the police. She had called them claiming a man was peeping in the window at her. It turned out to be a snowman."

"It was a man," Patrice countered, begging the priest to believe her. "Kwai, I saw him. It was a man staring outside the kitchen window. He was there, I swear he was."

"Mother, it's alright," Erik said moving closer to her. He kept his voice low and soothing, making sure he sounded compassionate as he shook the bottle gently at her. She was putty in his hands. "Remember, if you take your pills, I promise everything will be fine." He pretended to look embarrassed in front of the priest. "You don't want to cause a scene, do you? Especially in front of my father."

Patrice smiled slightly. "Perhaps you're right, Erik."

"She does not need the pills," Caine said firmly, and began leading Patrice out of the large room. "Erik, I believe your mother needs rest. Let me see to her comfort and then we will talk. I will return shortly. Please, stay and wait for me on the balcony."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't trust him, Kwai," Patrice murmured as the two walked out of the room. "Please, don't trust him."

Erik wandered out onto the balcony, smiling at the change of events. His father had prevented his mother from taking a pill, but it wasn't a setback. In fact, Caine had yet to impress him. Those rumors were just that—rumors. Nobody was that perfect.

He was so deep in thought that when he turned, Caine stood beside him. Erik nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Forgive me," his father apologized. "I did not mean to startle you."

"That's alright," Erik said, placing his hand across his chest waiting until his heartbeat slowed. Never had anyone had the ability to sneak up on him and it frightened him to know the priest had that power over him.

He looked at Caine and asked, "Is Mother asleep?"

"She is," the priest replied. "Your mother does not need those pills, Erik. Her mind was inflamed because she feared you."

"Sir, I mean no disrespect, but you don't know her like I do," Erik said, pretending to be hurt by the accusation. He walked away, keeping his back to his father. "Mother has been like this for years, and she seems to be getting worse, not better. One minute she will be fine, and the next," Erik waved his arms in the air, "she goes off, ranting and raving. I don't know what else to do for her."

"I have no experience in dealing with the mental aspects of the human spirit," his father admitted sadly. "Perhaps, with the correct treatment, Patrice will be whole again."

Erik laughed to himself. The old man had fallen into his trap. He had his newly discovered father wrapped around his finger. He turned back around and smiled. "So, Father, it's nice to finally meet you. Mother has told me absolutely nothing about you."

"I, too, was unaware of your existence. I am pleased to learn I have another son." Caine nodded. "Tell me about yourself."

"Another son? You have other children?" Erik asked, feigning ignorance. He made sure he placed the correct amount of surprise in his voice so not to raise suspicion. "You mean, I'm not an only child."

"No, and neither is Peter. He is younger than you."

"I have a brother. Imagine that." Erik shoved his hands into his pockets and paced the small area. "I gained a father and a brother in one day."

"You will discover you have a lot more in common with Peter," the priest said. He explained how their temple was destroyed and the events that led up to their reunion. In a calm voice, Caine returned to the present and guided his son back inside. "I have told you about your brother. Now give me the honor of knowing you."

Benedict slowly regained consciousness. He moaned before opening his eyes and found himself still strapped in the vehicle's seat belt. Rubbing his head, he tried to remember how he had crashed. The reason for the mishap suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. Badger! He had been hiding in the back.

He turned and saw the stowaway sitting in the front seat reading a book.

He gulped in fear. "Badg…"

"It's about time you woke up. I was getting bored."

Benedict reached for the door handle, trying in vain to escape the vehicle.

The door locked, sealing him inside with the killer. "I'm insulted," Badger said, laughing as if he were reading the comics. "I chased you half way across the state and you don't want to spend any time with me. How rude!"

"What do you want?"

"I know about the scheduled meeting at Erik's house. I also know about his little underground room," Badger said, continuing to read the book. "You and I are going to be at that meeting tomorrow and I'm going to collect what's rightfully mine."

Erik walked out unto the balcony and was surprised to learn darkness had fallen. Where had the time gone? He had no idea he had spent so much time inside talking with his father. A moment ago, Caine had left to escort Patrice home, demanding that Erik wait for his return.

A smile played across Erik's face. Caine had believed every word he said and had unknowingly given him ideas on how to handle his brother. If his plan worked, soon he would have the word of a cop and a respected Shaolin priest to convince the state that his mother needed to be placed in a mental institution for her own protection.

He heard a car approaching and looked down from the balcony to investigate. A dark sports car pulled into the alleyway and parked. Someone slowly climbed out of the car, apparently debating if they should pay a late night visit or drive off.

The man walked out of his view and Erik heard footsteps on the fire escape.

So much for solitude.


	18. Chapter 18

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Eighteen

Peter climbed the fire escape stairs to the roof top apartment, dreading the upcoming conversation with his father. The information he and Kermit had uncovered about Erik would hurt him, but Peter preferred to tell him the truth himself than let him hear it from someone else.

He walked into the hallway ready to yell a greeting, but something felt wrong. He came to an abrupt halt. The hallway was pitch black, and no light appeared from any of the adjoining rooms. Automatically, his body tensed, preparing for an unseen attack.

He heard footsteps coming from the balcony. Fearing for his father's safety, Peter rushed to investigate.

The balcony doors were open, sending a frigid chill into the dark apartment. Peter started to zip his jacket when he saw a silhouetted figure pacing back and forth on the balcony.

Instinctively, Peter's hand reached for his gun as he walked outside. "Hold it right there," he ordered, knowing the intruder was too tall to be his father. The individual turned in his direction but didn't drop into either a defensive or offensive stance. Instead, he appeared calm, as if he were expecting someone.

Perhaps the man was waiting for his father, but Peter wasn't going to take that chance. "Put your hands in the air and walk towards me."

The stranger raised his hands and slowly walked in Peter's direction. "I'm not intruding, if that's what you're thinking."

"Oh really. Then unless you're a vampire, you had better explain why you're standing in the dark," Peter demanded as he felt for the wall light switch. He flipped it and flinched when the stark light temporarily blinded him. His eyes adjusted quickly. "You want to tell me who you are and why you're in Pop's apartment?"

"Pop?" the man asked, looking down the hallway. "I think you've got the wrong place. Nobody by that name lives here."

"Like hell he doesn't," Peter said, biting his lip in an effort to control his temper. The man irritated him beyond reason, but something in the stranger's voice caused Peter to hesitate. He swore he detected the resonance of his father's tone in the man's voice. "You're standing in Kwai Chang Caine's apartment, or didn't you know that? Now for the last time, who are you and why are you here?"

"There's no need to get defensive. My name is Erik, and the priest knows I'm here. He escorted my mother back to her hotel and asked me to wait here until he returned," he explained and lowered his hands at the same time. Another blast of cold air blew into the apartment. Erik shivered and pointed at the balcony doors. "Would you mind if I closed those? I really don't want to catch pneumonia."

Peter nodded as he studied the older man's mannerisms. Erik shared many traits as their father, from the same dark brown eyes and calm demeanor. That's where the comparisons ended. There was something dark and sinister lurking underneath Erik's persona and Peter was determined to keep that evil from their father.

Erik stared at Peter intensely before moving to the balcony doors and closing them. "You must be Peter. Father told me about your suspicious nature. I guess he wasn't kidding. I'm your brother, and I believe you've already guessed my identity." Erik moved closer, assessing Peter like a fox would a prey. A large grin appeared across the older man's features, but there wasn't an ounce of friendship behind the smile as he held out his hand. "Father mentioned you might visit. He gave me a good description, and we talked for hours about you. Interesting facts, but nothing worth mentioning."

Peter shook the hand offered to him, wondering how much his father had told Erik about him. "I met your mother, but other than knowing your name. I know nothing about you," he said, breaking the handshake. He continued the charade of welcoming the newcomer and making sure Erik remained unsuspicious of his intentions.

"What would you like to know? I have no secrets," Erik declared, heading towards one of the larger rooms. Peter followed him, watching Erik pick up several of their father's mixing bowls. "I'm an archeologist and a part-time herbalist," Erik commented before returning the bowl. "I wasn't allowed to accompany my grandfather on his archeological digs until I majored in archeology. I guess it convinced him I was sincere. After that, I traveled with him to Egypt, China, the Middle East, and other countries."

"You've led an interesting life," Peter commented, continuing to keep the conversation civil. He stifled a yawn and then glanced at his watch. "Did my father mention how long he would be gone?"

"Our father, Peter. Remember, he's our father, and I hope for your sake you're not jealous." The archeologist took a few steps closer, closing the distance between the two men. "Like I said, I've traveled the world many times over. If it's one thing I pride myself on, it is knowing the cultures and traditions of the countries I've visited and that includes China. As the first-born son and grandson, I now have the right to our ancestors' lineage. That, dear brother, makes you insignificant."

"You arrogant son of a…"

"Of our father," Erik laughed, interrupting the insult. "It would be unfortunate if Father had to choose between us. If that were to happen, you wouldn't stand a chance."

Peter turned his back on his brother, fighting the urge to hit the jerk. Erik's bad reputation hadn't been exaggerated. Everything the drunk had told him in Bristol was true. He took a deep, calming breath and turned back around, determined to continue the charade. "Look, if I'm acting like an ass, I apologize. In the past three days I've managed to sleep a total of four hours. I guess I'm making a great first impression, aren't I?"

"Forget it. I think we're both trying too hard to impress the other," he said, the smile returned to his lips. "I don't envy you being a cop."

"How did you…."

"Father told me," Erik answered. "He told me a lot about you, and from the way he acted, he's worried over your chosen career."

Peter tried to mask his feelings of betrayal. Why would his father confide in a stranger and not him? Sure, they had had their disagreements, but he never thought his father would disapprove of him publicly. Another look at Erik and Peter had his answer. The man was deliberately trying to provoke him. But why?

"We talked for hours over a great deal of things," Erik continued undaunted. "From our shared interest in herbs to his intense abhorrence of violence. You know, I find this all very interesting. You chose the one career that was a slap in Father's face. How could you do that to him?"

"I don't need your approval for anything I do, Erik," Peter snapped. He bit his tongue to keep from calling the man a lying hypocrite. Instead, he glared back. "It's time you learn a few facts, brother," he said, lacing the last word with sarcasm. "Pop doesn't pass judgment on people, nor is he here for your beck and call. He comes and goes as he pleases, and if you're expecting to be his top priority, you're going to be very disappointed."

"Unlike you, Peter, I'll never settle for second best. I know how to get what I want and when I want it," Erik said, flashing the same smirk Damon possessed. "I can make an atheist believe in God. I have that power."

"You really need to do something about your lack of self confidence, Erik."

"Don't believe me, Peter?" Erik laughed at his own question. "I'll have the old man eating out of my hands by tomorrow morning, and we both know what that means, don't we?"

"Yeah," Peter said. He put his hand over his mouth and yawned. "You're the poster child for a Sominex commercial." The detective started walking towards the hallway. "Tell our father I stopped by and I'll see him tomorrow. Nice meeting you, brother."

He left the man standing alone in the large room as he started towards the fire escape. Erik was the least of his concerns now. He had to come up with a plan to get by Kermit's defenses in the morning in order to speak with Marilyn.

Erik angrily watched his brother leave. Peter wasn't as naïve as he had hoped, but his brother shouldn't be a problem. It was late and he still hadn't heard from Benedict. He reached into his jacket, pulled out his cell phone, and was surprised to find the power off.

In his excitement, he had forgotten he had turned it off so he wouldn't be disturbed during his meeting with his father. He dialed his associate's private number, but after ten rings, he ended the call. Something wasn't right, and he hoped Benedict had left a message for him on his other line.

He dialed his home number and punched in the access code to activate his messages. Benedict's voice came on the line, and he was speaking in such a panicked manner that it bothered Erik more than he wanted to admit. Benedict wasn't so easily scared, and Erik was convinced he needed protection. And what better protection than a cop? He was certain Badger wouldn't kill a cop.

Erik rushed out to the balcony and sighed with relief when he saw that Peter's car was still parked outside.

Peter walked into view and Erik shouted down to his brother. "Peter, wait! I want to talk to you."

"I think we've both said enough for one night, Erik."

"Please, just hear me out. That's all I ask," Erik pleaded, hoping he was convincing as he sounded. "I didn't mean what I said. I guess I'm the one who has been acting like an ass. Please come back inside. I'm sure Father would love to see both of his sons together when he returns."

Peter hesitated and Erik tossed in another plea before Peter finally relented.

Erik turned and walked back inside to hide his victorious smile.


	19. Chapter 19

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Nineteen

Erik anxiously waited for Peter to enter their father's herbarium. He knew the cop didn't trust him so he had to change tactics if he hoped to establish a link with his brother. It was obvious the younger man adored their father and would do anything to get his approval.

"I'm not staying, Erik," Peter said, walking into the room. "Whatever you've got to say, make it quick."

"This won't take long," Erik replied, secretly annoyed that Peter was the one making demands and not him. He grabbed two chairs and placed them on opposite sides of the worktable. "I promised Father that I would be civil when I met you."

"Am I supposed to feel guilty now?"

"What do you want from me, blood?"

Peter looked at him and then rolled his eyes. "I've seen better performances from fast food commercials."

"Alright, you figured me out. You've won," Erik sighed, waving his hands in a defeated gesture. "I realize coming here was a mistake. I'll leave in the morning and never bother either one of you again. It's not like I had a father and brother to miss in the first place. However, I can honestly say I tried to be civilized and failed. Will you be able to look Father in the eye and say the same thing?"

Peter slowly dropped down in the chair and lowered his eyes.

Erik hid another smile, realizing his brother was cornered. The longer Peter remained silent, the more he was becoming the proverbial mouse to his cat. And he always loved playing the cat. It was time to bait the trap.

"Father wanted more than anything for us to be friends," he added. "During our conversation, I learned he loves you unconditionally, and I suddenly found myself jealous of a man I didn't know. When I first saw you, I lashed out in anger and for that I deeply apologize."

Peter looked up and stared at him but didn't say a word.

Erik held out his hand. "Truce, brother?"

Peter hesitated, and then shook Erik's hand. "Truce."

With that problem solved, Erik tried to think of a reason to keep Peter from leaving. He knew as long as the cop remained close, he had the best protection money couldn't buy. He moved to the priest's herbal bench and noticed a leather pouch containing herbs, roots, and leaves.

One in particular caught his eye, but first he had to divert Peter's attention.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black bag. "Peter," he said, shaking the bag. The coins inside the bag jingled, piquing the younger man's interest. He tossed the bag to his brother. "Souvenirs from a friend of mine. He gave them to me on my last visit to his country."

While Peter was occupied with the coins, Erik reached inside the pouch and grabbed the herbs he needed. He stuffed them into his pocket and walked back to where Peter was inspecting the coins.

"They're yours if you want to keep them," Erik said. "I've got plenty of those coins. Trust me, I wouldn't miss them."

"I'm not a coin collector, but I'd almost swear these are solid gold." Peter returned the coins to the bag. "You've got a small fortune in here."

"I do, many times over," Erik admitted proudly. He stretched and released a fake yawn. "While we're waiting for Father, I'm going to make some tea. Do you want a cup?"

"No thanks, I think I'll pass."

"What do you think I'm going to do? Poison you?" Erik rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "Since you're convinced I want to kill you, just tell me where to find the strychnine so I can make sure I'm doing it right."

"All right, I'll drink the damn tea," Peter snapped. "Why do you have to take everything so personal?"

"It's a flaw in my character," Erik laughed. "If after one drink you aren't impressed, then I'll never force another one of my concoctions on you again."

"If only Pop would make that bargain," Peter commented.

"I'll take that as a yes," Erik said, and escaped to the kitchen. He found two teacups and a pot. While he waited for the water to boil, he tried to decide which cup to put the herb in. Peter had a suspicious nature and would wait until he felt safe before drinking the tea. Erik smiled as the inspiration hit—he knew just how to handle the problem.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the root he had taken from Caine's pouch. He looked into the boiling water and dropped it in.

Several minutes later the tea was prepared, and Erik placed the cups on a tray and carried it to the large room. He placed the tray on the worktable and picked up one of the cups. Raising it to his lips, he blew on the liquid before pretending to take a sip.

He sat down and waited for his brother to pick up the other cup. "Aren't you going to drink your tea?"

Peter narrowed his eyes, looked at the cup sitting on the tray, and with a cunning smile said, "I'll try yours', brother."

"What?" Erik asked, feigning disbelief. When Peter repeated his demand, Erik chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "Don't you ever stop being a cop long enough to relax?" He handed his teacup to Peter and picked up the remaining one. "I don't know if I should be pleased or insulted."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly and slowly raised the cup to his lips. He took a sip of tea and swallowed.

"Well, what do you think?"

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"I told you," Erik said with a grin and urged his brother on. "Go ahead and drink up. There's plenty more." For the next fifteen minutes, he continued his charade of drinking from the teacup. One refill later, Erik started witnessing the effects of his concoction. Peter's eyelids started to droop, and all attempts to stay awake quickly faded. In less than ten minutes, the detective lowered his head to the table.

Erik leaned back in his chair and smiled at his handiwork. He waited several minutes, making sure the tea had worked before he moved to his brother's side. "I think you'll be more comfortable in one of the bedrooms."

Erik tossed Peter over his shoulders and carried him to one of the two bedrooms. He flipped his brother over on the bed and bent down to remove his boots. "If this doesn't score me some brownie points with the old man, I don't know what will."

No sooner had he removed the last boot when he heard a slight sound. Erik looked up and saw the priest's silhouette in the doorway. He stood and faced his father, allowing his brother's boot to drop to the floor. "Father, I wasn't expecting you this soon."

Caine walked into the room and moved to Peter's side. In less than a minute, he raised his head and asked in a concerned voice, "Erik, what have you done?"

"Nothing harmful, Father," Erik answered, relishing in satisfaction because he had yet to diagnose his brother's condition.

"You used valerian?" Caine asked, shattering Erik's misconceptions about his father's abilities. "Do you know the dangers in using that root?"

"Father, I assure you I used just enough to help Peter fall asleep," Erik said, moving to his father's side. He looked down as Caine continued to tend to his brother. "It was just a small amount. Peter was dead on his feet and I was afraid to let him drive home in that condition."

Caine sighed deeply, satisfied that Peter wasn't in danger. Even in the darkness, Erik didn't miss the reproach in Caine's eyes. He returned his attention to Peter, undressed him, and placed a blanket over him.

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting jealousy as his father bent down to kiss the younger man's forehead. He waited until the priest joined him. "You must love him a lot."

"More than life itself," Caine replied. He placed his hand on Erik's shoulder and gently led him out of the room. "Come, my son, we need to talk."

"I hope you're not angry because..."

"I am not angry," his father answered as the two entered the hallway and returned to the workroom. "I saw Peter's car outside and became concerned. Your brother does not stay here when I am not home, and he never spends the night."

"Peter mentioned he hadn't slept in several days, and the longer we talked, the more I realized how exhausted he was," Erik explained, returning to the chair he had earlier occupied. "He was determined to wait for you, but the later it got the more afraid I was that he would leave and fall asleep behind the wheel."

"I am honored that you think so much of your brother," the priest said, "but…"

"Thank you, Father," Erik answered, enjoying the words of praise. "Allow me to make us some tea," he volunteered, hurrying out of the room in order to avoid any reprimand his father might have. His main objective was to gain the priest's complete trust and respect. Once he had that, Kwai Chang Caine would be putty in his hands.


	20. Chapter 20

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Twenty

The large room was cloaked in silence and occasionally a strong gusty wind would blow, rattling the windows and breaking the quiet. A cup, half-full of recently prepared herbal tea, rested inattentively in Caine's hands while he pondered his next move. All attempts to break the tension between himself and Erik had failed, and he assumed it was because of his objections to Erik's use of the herb without Peter's consent. .

When Caine pressed the issue, Erik claimed fatigued and requested a place for solitude. The priest sighed in defeat and showed the young man a small room, hoping the isolation would give him time to regroup so they might continue their conversation.

Now, three hours later, Erik returned, offering a somber greeting and requesting a cup of tea. Caine did as his son asked and found himself in the awkward position of communicator.

The events over the last few days had changed his life dramatically. A former love had returned, along with a son he never knew he had. Though he still loved Patrice, those feelings had changed considerably due mostly to Patrice herself. Her selfish ambitions and vanity lifestyle had greatly affected Erik, and he only hoped that the damage wasn't irreversible.

Perhaps Erik had possessed the feelings of resentment and apprehension before their introduction, but, whatever it was, Caine knew he had to act quickly or it would be too late.

"Erik," he began, careful not to provoke or accuse his son. "You have not told me about the meeting with your brother. Peter…"

"I think he's jealous, Father," Erik interrupted. "I honestly tried to be sociable, but Peter was openly hostile. Maybe he was just tired and wasn't being himself." The younger man paused and then added in a huff, "And I still believe I was right in using the herb, even if you think I'm incompetent."

"Incompetent? I do not understand. Have I ever insinuated that you were not capable?"

"Insinuated?" Erik replied, releasing a frustrated sigh. "You've all but accused me of trying to poison my brother."

"You misunderstand my questions, Erik. They have nothing to do with not trusting you or the choice of the herb you used."

"You could've fooled me." Erik leaped to his feet without giving his father a chance to explain further. He moved to the table where Caine's worn leather pouch rested. "If you don't approve of the herb I used, then why do you use it?" he asked, picking up the satchel. He shook it in Caine's direction. "Don't stand there and tell me you don't use it. I got it out of this bag."

"I do use the herb, and when it is used correctly it is extremely useful," Caine said. "But, what you did was wrong, my son. You used the herb without your brother's consent. Though you meant well, the results of your actions may be devastating to your relationship with your brother."

"Over one stupid cup of tea?" Erik asked with a disbelieving laugh. "Father, don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?"

"I do not exaggerate," Caine replied. "I will try to explain, if you will allow me time to do so."

Erik shrugged nonchalantly. "Please do."

The priest respectfully bowed his head and then joined his son by the table. "Erik, trust does not come easily for your brother. It must be earned." He placed his hand on Erik's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "My son, put yourself in Peter's shoes. Would you trust your brother if he had drugged you?"

Erik dropped the leather bag and slumped his shoulders. "I guess I'm a big disappointment to you, Father. Since we first met, I've done nothing but brag about my travels and my meeting with kings, queens, ambassadors, and diplomats. Then, the first chance I get to impress you, I fail miserably. I can't even handle a simple meeting with my own brother."

"Erik, perhaps you are trying too hard," Caine suggested. "Give yourself time to get to know your brother."

"Father, it's not that simple," Erik replied with another sigh. "I don't think Peter's impressed with his big brother."

"Your brother was not impressed with me when we were first reunited. There are days, I believe, when his opinion of me has not changed." Erik glanced up, giving him a skeptical look. Caine only raised his shoulder and casually shrugged. "You must not consider your first encounter with your brother a defeat."

"I don't know how to talk to him. No matter what I try to say to him, he makes it difficult," Erik confessed. "I know Peter's a cop, but does he suspect the worst in everyone, or is it just me?"

"I am sure Peter did not mean..."

"Father, while we talked I felt as if I were being analyzed under a microscope, that my being accepted into my own family hinged on every word I said. He made me feel like a criminal." Erik narrowed his eyes and sighed with irritation. "I don't need this kind of pressure, Father. As much as I want you in my life, I'll give up that dream before I allow myself to be humiliated in front of you." Caine opened his mouth to respond, but Erik raised his hand. "Please let me say my peace before I lose the courage to do so."

Caine relented, granting his son's wish by remaining silent.

"I really wanted to honor your request, but how can I be a brother to a man who doesn't want one?" Erik started pacing, circling around his father as he continued to speak. "He doesn't trust me, nor does he want me to have a relationship with you."

The priest considered Erik's words. He realized Peter never had a brother to compete for his attention, and the incident with his former student Jake flashed in his mind. Perhaps there was some truth to Erik's fears. "Would you like for me to talk to Peter?"

"If you think it will help, Father," Erik said, dropping back down in the chair. "At this point, I'm willing to try anything."


	21. Chapter 21

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

**Chapter Twenty-one**

Flames from the burning candles flickered and the light they provided was gradually diminishing. Yet, the large room grew brighter.

Curious, Erik glanced towards the balcony and discovered dawn had already broken. The early morning sky was mixed with a blend of pink, red, and yellow colors to form the first light of day.

Erik looked at his watch, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him. It couldn't possibly be this late. "Seven a.m.," he muttered, wondering how time could have flown by so fast.

His curiosity to learn more about his mysterious father had distracted him and caused him to lose track of time. He silently laughed to himself, amused that he was so good at uncovering weaknesses that he could recognize his own.

Erik swallowed the last of the liquid from his third cup of herbal tea and grimaced at the bitter taste. Drinking the pungent brew was a small price to pay if it pacified his father and gained him his confidence and trust.

Since midnight Erik's opinion of the priest and his reputation had changed dramatically. At first, Erik had been intimidated, almost in awe of what he had been told of his father's abilities. Now, after meeting the man, he felt Caine's reputation had been greatly exaggerated. Erik had looked him straight in the eyes and without batting an eyelash, lied right to his face.

"What are your plans today, Erik?" his father asked. "If you have not decided where you wish to live, perhaps you would consider Chinatown."

"I've got several offers overseas. I'd like to keep my options open," Erik answered. He watched his father carefully, waiting for the elder Caine to grovel and beg him to stay.

Erik's dream was dashed when nothing happened. His father didn't even give him the satisfaction of an expression. The man just sat across the table and stared at him.

"I hope you're not disappointed," he said, hoping that would make Caine plead with him to stay.

"You have your own life to live, Erik. I hope you will visit me often when your travels bring you near."

"Now that I can promise, Father." Erik lowered the teacup to the table and pushed it towards his father. "I think I've drunk more tea with you this one night than I have my whole life. But the conversation's been great."

"I have also enjoyed the conversation, my son."

"You'll have to share your secret with me, Erik," Peter said, walking into the room. He covered his hand with his mouth and stifled a yawn. "I can't get Pop to say more than a few words at a time to me."

"One cannot have a conversation when only one is doing the talking." Caine gracefully moved across the room to greet his youngest son with a playful slap to the face. "A lesson you have yet to learn, my son."

"Yeah, I know. One of many that's on my rapidly growing list, right?" Peter teased and leaned forward to kiss his father on the forehead. "I don't know why you put up with me."

"I would not have you any other way, Peter." The priest pulled his son into his arms and hugged him. A moment later, the embrace broken, Caine caressed Peter's cheek and voiced an observation. "You look rested, my son."

"I don't remember falling asleep, much less crashing in your spare bedroom, Pop." Peter ran his hand through his hair. "The last thing I remember was drinking the cup of tea Erik gave me. I can't…." the young man stopped in mid-sentence, turned, and glared suspiciously at Erik. "Unless I had some help."

"Meaning what?" Erik asked, getting to his feet. "If you remember Peter, you were the one who took my cup. I never forced anything on you. How can you accuse me of doing anything underhanded?"

Peter stared silently, the hazel eyes accusing Erik even though he knew he couldn't prove his guilt.

"Well?" Erik challenged, keeping his brother on the defensive. He managed to sneak a glance at his father, wondering if the elder Caine had thoughts of revealing the truth.

His father's face remained unemotional, revealing nothing for Erik to interpret. Figuring Caine was interested in the interaction between his two sons, Erik decided to give the old man the performance of a lifetime. "Peter, why are you angry at me?" Erik asked pitifully, hoping he sounded as offended as he thought he did. "Have I done something wrong?"

"We just met, Erik. I don't think you've had enough time to do anything," Peter answered sarcastically. "Yet."

Perhaps the old man was accustomed to Peter's sarcasm because he didn't seem disturbed by the flippant remark. However, Erik knew the cheap shot was directed at him.

"Just give me time, little brother." Erik laughed, hoping to make the threat sound like the joke to Caine. He placed an arm around their father's shoulder, waiting for Peter's reaction to the affectionate gesture. "I'm taking our father out for breakfast. Why don't you join us?"

Peter appeared unfazed by Erik's actions. The younger man glanced at his watch and sighed deeply. "Wish I could, but I've got to get to work." Peter took a few steps towards the door, stopped, and turned back around. "How about a rain check?"

"Yeah, well, I don't know how long I'll be in town. You might want to check with me first." Erik knew he sounded selfish and childish but Peter's calm demeanor had surprised him. Before he had time to make amends, his father spoke for the first time.

"Peter has tomorrow off. Perhaps my two sons could spend the day together," Caine suggested with a slight shrug of the shoulder. "You could use the time to get to know one another."

"Good idea, Pop." Peter hurried to the door. "I've got to get out of here before Captain Simms puts an A.P.B. out on me. I'll drop by later this evening."

"I will look forward to your company, my son," Caine said. He waited until Peter had left the apartment before he turned to Erik and asked, "Are we ready to go?"

"I'll be right back, Father. I forgot to tell Peter something." Erik hurried out the same door his brother had exited only seconds ago. He rushed down the stairs and found Peter standing by the driver's side window, shaking his head in frustration. Apparently, he had left the window down and the morning dew had gotten the interior wet.

When Peter swiped his hand across the door's panel and sent droplets of dew flying in many directions, Erik couldn't conceal his smile. Might as well yank the brat's chain a little harder and see how angry he can get if he's pushed too far. "Hold it right there, cop!" Erik yelled. "I've got something to say to you."

"Let me guess: You forgot to mention that you are the chosen one," Peter said as he climbed inside the car. He closed the door behind him. "Or is it the famous 'I'm going to rule the world and you can either join me or I'll destroy you', routine?"

"You've got a smart mouth," Erik replied. He leaned inside the car to prevent his brother from leaving and glared at him. "I'm going to make you wish you've never been born."

"Again?" Peter snorted before he started the car's engine. He grabbed Erik by the shirt collar and yanked him halfway inside the car. "I played nice for our father's sake," Peter hissed. "There's no way I want him to know what kind of a scumbag you are."

"Oh, he doesn't know?" Erik asked sarcastically. "I thought the old man walked on water."

"I'm warning you, big brother. If you as so much breathe on our father, I'll be on you like white on rice. Get my meaning?" Peter released his hold and allowed Erik time to climb out of the window before he drove away.

Erik watched in silence as the car disappeared from view. He straightened his shirt and bandaged his wounded pride. Nobody humiliated him without paying a high price for it.


	22. Chapter 22

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_**Kaleidopy**_

Chapter Twenty-two

Benedict glanced at the man sitting in the passenger seat. Badger had spent the entire night with his face buried in that blasted book. He had hoped he would fall asleep reading, but no such luck. How could one person find 'War and Peace' so intriguing?

Escape was futile and he knew it.

Badger lowered the book. "You can start the vehicle," he ordered. "A few associates are waiting for our arrival."

"You can at least tell me who we're meeting before you kill me."

"I'm not in the business of granting requests, Mr. Benedict," Badger stated while turning another page. "I would suggest that if you wish to keep breathing, you'll keep your eyes on the road and your mouth shut."

Taking the threat seriously, Benedict drove on without saying another word. Silence between the two men lasted half an hour before an old run down building appeared in the distance.

"Pull in front of the shack." Badger demanded.

The driver did as instructed, and Badger reached over and pressed the car horn twice. On cue, a red Cadillac with tinted windows appeared from behind the shack and slowly made its way towards the car. The vehicle came to a stop, allowing both drivers to speak without leaving their automobiles.

As the driver started rolling down his window, Badger instructed Benedict to do the same.

A blond man with a full beard stuck his head out the window and asked, "How many?"

"Two," Badger answered and then pushed a button on the console. Two men stepped out of the Cadillac and climbed into the van. "Now, Mr. Benedict," Badger said, relocking the doors, "we can continue our trip to Bristol."

As Peter drove to St. Vincent's Hospital, his thoughts focused on the unpredictable threat Erik posed. His brother was a master manipulator and usually that trait was useless against their father, but Erik was family and that might be enough to keep Caine's eyes closed to the truth.

Unable to be in two places at once, Peter knew he needed someone to keep an eye on his brother while he wasn't there. He knew the perfect person for the job.

"Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to keep my eye on your brother, but pretend I'm visiting your father?" Mary Margaret teased, obviously enjoying the phone conversation. "Isn't that like asking the fox to guard the hen house? How sure are you that I can be trusted around Caine?"

"Skalany, maybe Blake would be a better choice to…."

"Oh no you don't, partner," the woman warned. "If you ruin this opportunity for me, I'll make your life miserable."

"Get over to Pop's place as quick as you can," he said, smiling at the image he had of Skalany breaking the sound barrier as she rushed to his father's apartment.

With that problem solved, Peter concentrated on finding a way to gain Marilyn's trust and confidence. It would be his best chance of learning her attacker.

He drove into the first available parking spot and turned off the engine. A careful inspection told him Kermit's car wasn't among those in the visitor's parking lot. Relieved, Peter stared at the hospital's front entrance and mentally rehearsed what he was going to say to Marilyn.

Moments later, he climbed out of the vehicle, locked the doors, and made his way inside the five-story building. He knew he still faced his biggest challenge yet—getting Kermit out of the way long enough for him to talk to Marilyn in private. Once Marilyn learned her children were safe, Peter was convinced she would cooperate with him.

He walked quickly through the lobby, ignoring the people around him as he made his way to the elevators. He turned a corner and stopped in mid stride, wondering why a small crowd had gathered around the elevator doors.

An 'Out of Order' sign taped to the elevator door answered his question.

Grumbles and complaints could be heard as the one working elevator filled up and started its ascent journey upward.

"You'd think with the taxes we're being charged to pay for this hospital, it would be enough to keep the elevators working," a man holding a suitcase remarked before glancing at his watch. "I'm going to be late for work."

"This is ridiculous!" another added.

Three minutes later, the elevator door opened and the crowd thinned out. Peter managed to step inside just as the elevator doors closed behind him.

Packed in like sardines, he was thankful when the doors opened and half the occupants disembarked on the second floor. He managed to read the word 'Cafeteria' printed on a small plaque and a large black arrow pointing in the appropriate direction before the doors closed.

"They must have gotten hungry waiting for the elevator," a man commented as the elevator started climbing again.

By the time the elevator reached the fifth floor, Peter was the lone occupant. The solitude had been welcomed, even if it had only been temporary. When he stepped out of the elevator, two men standing by the disabled car flashed tired smiles at him.

"Sorry, for the inconvenience," one of the men apologized, "but routine maintenance turned out to be not so routine."

"It's ready," another man said as he emerged from inside the small compartment. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the grease from his hands. "Both elevators are working. Nobody should be further inconvenienced."

"How long has the elevator been down for maintenance?"

"Seven hours," the man answered. "Why?"

"Have you seen any suspicious characters?" Peter asked, showing the men his badge.

"No. In fact, the whole floor's been quiet as a tomb," one men answered. "Is something going on that we should know about?"

"No. I'm just doing my job—investigating a case," Peter answered as he walked away. "You know us cops, we like to keep things interesting."

He turned a corner and walked down the long corridor. Two armed guards stood in front of Marilyn's room.

"James, is Kermit inside?"

James Wallace, a twenty-year veteran of the police force pointed his thumb in the opposite direction. "He muttered something about stubborn sisters and getting a cup of coffee. That was about five minutes ago."

"Do me a favor," he said. "If you see Kermit, kick the door or do something to warn me."

"Sure Pete."

Peter opened the door and walked inside the small hospital room. Marilyn was putting items inside a brown paper bag. She reached for the pillow and squeezed it.

"Kermit, I'm not changing my mind." She turned and threw the pillow at her intended victim. "In fact, you can take your attitude and stick it where..."

Peter managed to duck as the pillow flew over his head.

Marilyn's eyes widened, and an embarrassed smile swept across her face. "Oh, Peter. I'm sorry. I thought you were Kermit."

"He's shorter and wears sunglasses. Remember?" Peter embraced her and then walked her back to the bed. "Marilyn, we've got to talk."

Marilyn shook her head. "Peter, I..."

"Hear me out," Peter interrupted. "Once I'm finished, if you don't change your mind, then I'll never bring it up again. Deal?"

Marilyn glanced at the wall, thought a moment, and then made her decision. "All right, but no promises."

Peter dropped into the only chair and took Marilyn's hand. "Marilyn, Jason and Mitch are safe."

With a cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth, Kermit angrily walked out of the waiting room carrying a cup of hot coffee in each hand.

Having reached the end of his patience, he was determined to have a final showdown with his sister. It was bad enough that Marilyn refused to talk to him, but now she was making demands before she would identify her attacker.

A nurse stepped out from behind the nurse's station, carrying a clipboard in her hand. "Sir," she called. "We don't allow smoking in this area. We have designated areas for our smoking visitors."

"Sorry," he apologized, forgetting he had the cigarette in his mouth. He remembered he had passed an ashtray on his way to get some coffee, and started in that direction. "I'll ditch it now."

The nurse smiled, but watched him suspiciously until he was out of her line of sight.

He found the ashtray at the corner of the corridor. He placed the two coffee cups on top of the trash bin, and then ground the cigarette into the sand inside the ashtray. "If smoking isn't allowed, then why the hell do they have ashtrays in the hallway?" he muttered under his breath.

He reached for the cups, but Officer Wallace's voice caught his attention. Since Marilyn's room was the first door in the next corridor, he easily heard the guards' conversation. When he heard Wallace mention Peter's name, Kermit felt his anger return.

He picked up the cups, and rounded the corner. The two officers had their backs to him and were unaware of his presence. He noticed a nurse's cart, loaded with patient's breakfast trays, parked by the door. He placed the cups on the tray and tapped Wallace on the shoulder.

Wallace turned and would have fallen to the floor in surprise if Kermit hadn't grabbed him.

"Any attempt to warn Peter and you'll have an enemy for life," Kermit said, releasing the man. He ignored the rookie cop staring dumbfounded at him and entered the hospital room without warning.

Marilyn's head was on Peter's shoulder, and her body shook uncontrollably as she cried. "It was Erik, Peter. He wanted to know where Patrice went, and when I refused to tell him he kept hitting me."

Erik! He'd suspected all along Patrice's son had been his sister's attacker, but needed proof before he sought revenge. Now that he had that information, damn anyone who tried to stop him.

"Shush, everything's going to be all right. I promise. I know where to find Erik." Kermit froze, listening to Peter's soothing words of support. He waited for his friend to reveal Erik's location. No sense in wasting valuable time when someone else could supply the information you needed.

Marilyn broke the embrace and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as Peter continued. "I'm going to my father's place to arrest him. If you can keep Kermit occupied a little longer, I'll have Erik behind bars before your brother finds out what's happened."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Peter," Kermit said, watching both jump at the sound of his voice. They acted as if they had just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The scene would have been funny if he hadn't been so angry over their failed plot. "It's nice to know my sister confides in my co-worker instead of me."

Marilyn gasped. "Kermit, please don't be angry." She rushed to her brother's side and tried to calm him. "I was worried about you. I don't want to lose my brother because…"

"Because of what Erik Montgomery did to you?" Kermit pushed her hand away and glared at Peter. When Peter took a step towards him, he pointed a finger at him. "Stay right where you are, Peter. You're about to become an only child again, and if you attempt to stop me I won't be held liable for my actions."

Peter did not attempt to close the distance between the two men. Instead, he tried to reason with his friend. "Kermit, don't do anything stupid."

"Stupid?" Kermit mocked, laughing at Peter's choice of words. He slapped the side of his hip, leaving no question that his trusted desert eagle was where it belonged. "The only stupid thing I'm going to do is erase the virus your father and Patrice created thirty-four years ago."

"Kermit," Peter pleaded, eyeing the door and the older man at the same time. He took a careful step forward, keeping his voice soft. "You know I can't let you do that."

"You're not going to stop me." Kermit turned his back, already anticipating Peter's next course of action. He waited for the sudden movement of air, turned, and grabbed Peter by the shirt. Using Peter's own momentum, Kermit hurled him into the wall. He pressed his arm against Peter's throat and applied pressure. "Tell me, if it had been Carolyn or Kelly instead of Marilyn, would we be having this argument?"

Peter tried to move. "Kermit, I…"

"Answer me, Peter!" Kermit shouted.

"I…I," the younger man stuttered. Kermit applied more pressure, forcing an admission from Peter's lips. "No."

"Let's get something straight right now, my friend," Kermit said releasing his hold. He stepped back and glared at the younger man. "Your sisters are not better than mine. Marilyn means everything to me just like Kelly and Carolyn do to you." He yanked open the door and walked out into the corridor.

Wallace made the mistake of grabbing his arm. Kermit turned and shoved the man to the floor. Without thinking, he balled his hand into a fist and struck the remaining officer in the nose.

He started to walk away, but remembered the two cups sitting on the cart. With a Cheshire cat's grin, he picked up the cups and walked to Marilyn's door. He dumped the coffee onto the floor. "Whoops!" he muttered, dropping the cups to the floor as he made his way to the elevators.


	23. Chapter 23

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_**Kaleidopy**_

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mentally kicking himself for allowing Kermit to gain the upper hand, Peter knew he had to act fast before the senior detective followed through with his threat. He opened the door and glanced back at Marilyn. "Wait here. I'll try and talk some sense into him."

He blindly rushed out of the room, oblivious to the spilled liquid in front of the door.

When his feet came out from under him, he managed to stay upright but skidded across the hallway and hit the opposite wall.

He regained his composure and glanced up the hallway, hoping nobody had seen his unrehearsed balancing act. His dignity restored, he turned and searched for the source of his near accident.

He spotted Kermit rapidly making his way down the hallway towards the elevator. Before he could start his pursuit, a painful moan caught his attention and he spotted the two officers lying in the floor.

A dazed expression was the first thing Peter detected on Wallace's face. He helped the officer to his feet.

Alex Gordon, the younger officer, stood on wobbly knees and held a handkerchief to his nose. Blood seeped into the material. Alex glared at Peter and muttered, "The next person I see wearing sunglasses, I'm going to shoot'em first and ask questions later."

Peter looked up the hallway again and saw Kermit nearing the elevators. He tried one last time to get his friend to come to his senses. "Kermit," he shouted, "if you go after Erik, you're playing right into his hands. The only ones who'll get hurt are Marilyn and the kids. Let me handle Erik. He'll pay for what he's done."

Kermit ignored Peter's pleas. In fact, he didn't even slow down.

"Damn it," Peter muttered. Now, he could only hope that the three maintenance workers hadn't finished with the elevator repairs.

Before he could take off after Kermit, Marilyn came out of her room. She carefully stepped out into the hallway, staring at the chaos her brother had caused. Her hand flew to her mouth in dismay. "Peter, you've got to do something," she pleaded. "If Kermit kills Erik, he'll destroy his life."

"I'll stop him. You have my word." Peter gently kissed her forehead and said in a soothing vow. "Everything's going to be all right."

"Go!" Marilyn told him. "I'll be all right."

"I know, but I'm also going to guarantee it, too." Peter reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a yellow piece of paper, and gave it to the older guard. "Wallace, this is the address I want you to take Marilyn. I want you and your partner to take her there and relieve the men guarding her kids."

He placed his hands on Marilyn's shoulders and gave them a quick squeeze. "Marilyn, trust me," he said. Then, without waiting for her to reply, he took off down the hallway after Kermit.

He reached the elevators and found the three workers in a daze. One was leaning against the wall holding his head, and the other two were sprawled on the floor.

"Did a guy wearing sunglasses come by here?"

"Yeah," one of the men answered, an angry expression on his face. "He knocked Terry down. When I confronted him, the nut hit me. Was he the jerk you were referring to earlier? If so, he just took the right elevator."

"No, he wasn't the guy, but I need a big favor." Peter hesitated, skeptical of how his request would be received by the men. "I need you to shut down the right elevator."

"Are you crazy? There's nothing wrong with that elevator," the man protested. "In fact, both elevators are working perfectly."

Peter flashed his badge again, hating to pull rank. "I'm afraid I must insist."

"Give us a break, cop. We've been here all night! Our shift ended two hours ago."

"I'm sorry," Peter replied sincerely. He knew they were only doing their job. "I wouldn't ask this of you or your men, but this is a matter of life and death."

The man sighed and then turned to one of his co-workers. "Radio Carl and tell him shut down elevator two. Tell him it's urgent."

One of the men pulled out a walkie-talkie and relayed the order. He then nodded to Peter to let him know that the order had been carried out.

"Thanks," Peter replied, shaking the man's hand. "Try and keep him in the elevator at least fifteen minutes." He rushed down the stairs knowing he didn't have much time to get to his father's apartment before Kermit was free.


	24. Chapter 24

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_**Kaleidopy**_

Chapter Twenty-Four

Kermit glared at the control panel, seething at the voice that kept telling him that it would only be a few more minutes before the elevator would be moving again. "You said that ten minutes ago," he shouted as he paced the compartment.

"Sir, please, we're working as fast as we can," the male voice replied. "One of the fuses blew and we have to replace it."

"Just hurry," Kermit said and then continued pacing.

"I'll do my best, Peter," Mary Margaret said, listening to her partner's request to stall Erik until he arrived to arrest the man. She had noticed the urgency in Peter's voice, and could tell he was torn between his duty as a police officer and his concern for his father. They both knew Caine would be devastated when he learned the truth about Erik's crimes. Perhaps she could do something to alleviate his personal pain, she mused.

"I know you will, Skalany," Peter replied, and quickly informed her of the incident at the hospital. "I don't have to tell you what will happen if Kermit gets his hands on Erik."

"How long before you arrive?"

"Ten minutes," he answered. "I'll see you then. Bye."

She tucked away her cell phone and made her way back inside Caine's apartment. "I'm sorry. I had to leave like that," she said. "I had to take that call—it concerned a very important case that I've been working on for weeks."

"It must have been some call," Erik said, staring at her suspiciously. "You were outside for ten minutes."

"Really," she laughed, ignoring his skepticism. "Considering how much Detective Biltmore likes to drag out a conversation, I'm surprised I got off so quickly."

"Ah," Caine said with his usual calm demeanor. "Hopefully it was good news."

"Very," she replied, smiling at him. "You promised to show me the herbal garden you started last week."

"Come," the priest urged, placing his arm around Mary Margaret's shoulders. "It is on the terrace."

"Erik, would you like to join us?" she asked, hoping to keep him occupied until Peter arrived. "I'd like a chance to get to know you better. Besides, Caine isn't much of a talker so I'd appreciate the company."

For the next fifteen minutes, Mary Margaret listened to Erik's arrogant claims of being an herbalist, an archaeologist, and an escape artist. With all his hot air, she wondered if he wasn't a career politician too.

Peter slammed the Stealth's door and started climbing the fire escape stairs. Skalany's voice drifted down and he pinpointed her location on the balcony. By the time he reached the top of the stairs and entered the apartment, Peter had figured out a plan to arrest Erik without their father witnessing the incident.

Skalany walked back inside and caught his glance. She tried to usher Caine to another room but he seemed aware that something was amiss.

"Skalany, if you will…"

"Peter," Caine interrupted, using the tone that always made Peter feel like a ten year old. He stared at his son with such intensity that Peter regretted what he was about to do. However, with Kermit within striking distance, he didn't have any alternative.

"Pop, I didn't want to do this, but I have no other choice." He turned to Erik and pulled out his set of handcuffs. "Erik Montgomery, you're under arrest…"

"For what?" Erik asked as his hands were placed behind his back. "Washing colors with whites?"

"Marilyn Manse named you as her attacker," Peter said, snapping the cuffs around Erik's wrists. He read his brother the Miranda warning. "You will be held at the precinct until you are extradited to Braselton."

"Father," Erik pleaded to the priest. "Would you call him off? I swear to you that I haven't done what he's accusing me of doing. I swear to you that I'm innocent. I would never hurt anyone, much less a woman."

"Marilyn says differently," Peter replied, shoving his brother forward. "And since she has filed a complaint, my job is to enforce it."

"Father, please do something."

"I'm taking the back roads to the precinct so we don't run into Kermit," Peter said to his partner as he left the room.

"I'll meet you there," Skalany replied.

Peter ushered his brother out of the building and escorted him to the car. He carefully placed his hand on top of Erik's head and helped him into the passenger's seat. After securing the safety belt, Peter slammed the door and walked around the car. He ignored the disapproval in his father's eyes as he looked down on him from the balcony.

Mary Margaret stood on the balcony and watched the Stealth drive away. She turned to Caine and noticed his calm demeanor was missing. "Caine, ride with me to the precinct," she said. "I'm sure Erik would want to see you."

The priest nodded but remained silent as the two started to go inside.

Skalany stopped, concerned over the recent events. "Caine," she said, reaching up to touch his shoulder. "Peter was only doing his job. I offered to make the arrest, but he felt…"

"I am not angry with Peter," the priest admitted, glancing back towards the balcony. "It is Erik who concerns me. Patrice has told me things, horrible things, that our son has done," he said with a deep sigh. "I had hoped she was wrong, but after learning what he did to Marilyn…"

"It's not your fault, Caine," she interrupted. "Erik chose his own path and he has to answer for those choices. He can't blame poverty or a bad family environment. Patrice wasn't a candidate for Mother of the Year, but she wasn't abusive or neglectful either. Erik had the support and guidance of a grandfather who loved him dearly, and he repaid him by murdering him."

Caine stared back at her. "Did Peter tell you this?"

"Yes," she answered. "He told me during the phone conversation we had earlier."

"But he chose not to tell me."

"He didn't want to hurt you, Caine."

"How much money do you make in a year?"

"None of your business," Peter answered sharply.

"Apparently it's not much," Erik chuckled. "I bet I make more money in one week than you do in a year."

"Mine's legal."

"Big deal! What kind of a future do you have? A measly pension, and it's only guaranteed if you live long enough to collect it. What if I offer you enough money so that you could retire now and live the rest of your life in luxury?"

"Forget it," Peter snapped, even though Erik had the uncanny ability to make it sound enticing. He knew the dark side of that lifestyle all too well – he had seen it every day at work. Lives were destroyed and the innocent suffered all in the name of greed.

"Look, I'm being serious," Erik said. "I stand to lose a fortune if I'm not in Bristol by noon. If you let me go, I'll give you 25 percent clear profit. That could be millions. Don't tell me the offer isn't tempting?"

"It's not," Peter replied. "So don't waste your breath trying to convince me otherwise."

"I bet you arrest people for pulling tags off mattresses, don't you?" Erik muttered. "The world can sleep better knowing those evil tag pullers' days are numbered."

Peter mentally counted to ten.

"Oh, look, a tree," Erik sneered, looking out the car window. "I heard if you put a few together you could make a house."

"Shut up!" Peter shouted, growing tired of Erik's incessant chatter. The usual ten-minute trip to the precinct had turned into a forty-five minute alternate route from hell. The road needed paving, and it seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't avoid the crater-sized potholes.

"This is such a waste of time for the both of us," Erik said. "We both know I'll never serve a day in jail. I have money and I know how to use it."

"It won't get you out of this, Erik."

"Then let me enlighten you, cop," he said with a cocky grin. "I'm going to post bail the instant I hire an attorney. After that, I'm going to destroy Mrs. Marilyn Manse's character when she steps foot in court. It's going to be her on trial, not me. By the time I'm finished with her, even her own family will believe she's nothing more than a money-grabbing, blackmailing slut."

Peter slammed on the brakes, causing the Stealth to skid off the road. He glared at the man. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't toss your ass on the street and let you take your chances with Kermit."

"Oh you're really scaring me," Erik said after Peter pulled back on the road. Ten minutes of silence passed before Erik started goading him again. "Really, Peter, I don't see how you've managed to survive this long. It boggles my mind how you overestimate a computer nerd, yet you underestimate his intended target."

Peter ignored the sarcasm and focused on the drive. On both sides of the street the ground had been grated and marked for another apartment community. The city had grown so fast in such a short time. It had only been ten years ago that Paul had brought him to this exact location for a hunting trip.

A sense of sadness overwhelmed him. Everything had changed and the place was almost unrecognizable. The woods were gone, the deer were gone, and so was Paul.

"You're doing it again," Erik's irritating voice interrupted his memories.

"Doing what?" Peter snapped. He glanced at his brother and instantly understood what he meant—Erik was free. Somehow, he had unlocked the handcuffs and freed his hands. Peter didn't have time to react. Erik grabbed the sheering wheel and jerked it, causing Peter to lose control of the Stealth.

The vehicle veered off the road and tumbled out of control over the embankment. Glass shattered and metal crunched before the car came to a violent halt at the bottom of a ditch. It landed on its side, leaving the driver unconscious and the passenger looking for a way to escape.


	25. Chapter 25

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

_**Kaleidopy**_

Chapter Twenty-Five

Erik moaned in pain, already suffering from a headache that the crash had caused. "I'm suing the entire police force," he stated and waited for an angry response from his brother. Surprised when none came, he turned and discovered Peter was unconscious. With the car landing on the driver's side, Peter had taken the worst of the impact.

Erik quickly unfastened his safety belt, determined to escape before Peter regained consciousness. He started to climb out of the window, checking first to make sure there wasn't any glass sticking out around the frame.

Satisfied his escape route was safe, Erik started to crawl through the open window, but another glance at his unconscious brother caused him to have seconds thoughts. As a precaution, he sniffed the air to make sure he didn't detect any gas fumes and then dismissed escaping as a top priority.

Erik maneuvered his body back inside the vehicle and slowly made his way towards Peter. He didn't want to make any sudden moves in case his brother woke up and believed he was trying to escape. He slid his hand under Peter's head and lifted it slightly.

"Peter," he whispered, keeping his voice soft and gentle. He waited, making sure the younger man remained unconscious before he lowered his head down. "Too bad you're still out," he said as he retrieved the cop's weapon from its holster. "I would have loved to smash your head against the door." He checked the weapon and found it loaded. "I guess it's true what they say," he said, pressing the gun against Peter's temple. "The good die young."

"Hello down there," a voice called, interrupting the assassination. "Is anyone down there?"

Erik tucked the weapon into his belt and slowly climbed out of the vehicle. An elderly man stood on top of the hill watching him. "Should I call for help?" the man asked, moving towards a parked Lincoln Continental where his wife waited.

"No, I'm alright," Erik called, stopping the man. "Can you give me a lift to the next gas station? As you can see, my car isn't going anywhere."

"Sure," the man answered, glancing at the overturned car. "Are you alone? Is there anyone still trapped in the car?"

"No, I'm alone," Erik said, accepting the elderly man's hand for support after he reached the top of the hill. "I lost control when a deer ran out in front of me."

He settled into the back seat and smiled at the woman who offered him a handkerchief. "You cut yourself," she said, pointing at her eyebrow in order to see him the location of the cut. "It's not bad."

"Thanks," he said, dabbing the cloth over the cut. The car pulled back onto the road, leaving the damaged vehicle behind. The large automobile was comfortable and just his style. He lowered his hand down to his belt and felt for the gun. "Do you have the time?"

"It's almost ten," the woman answered.

He thanked her again, smiling at her when she looked back. If he played his cards right, he would make it to Bristol in time for the meeting. With the money he planned to make, he could afford to buy twelve parking lots full of vehicles.

Erik looked out the windshield and saw the city in the distance. Another glance to his side revealed the perfect location to dump a couple of bodies. He pulled out the weapon, pointed it at the woman's head, and fired.

* * *

"What do you mean he's not answering his radio?" Kermit asked, staring at Broderick. "Peter should have been here thirty minutes ago."

"He's not answering, that's all I can tell you," the desk sergeant replied, and then glanced towards the two men pacing in Strenlich's office. "They're Feds; apparently Peter was bringing in a prisoner for them to escort back to Braselton."

"Something has happened to my son," Caine announced in a somber voice.

Kermit turned, watching as a concerned Skalany escorted the priest to the front desk. "What direction did Peter take, Mary Margaret? I know he didn't take the warehouse district or use the direct route."

"He took…"

"The Park Ridge Woods," Caine answered. "The same woods where the survivalist Grant tried to take over the park."

"I'll get someone over there to check it out," Broderick said, picking up the phone.

"I know where it is," Kermit replied angrily. He started to leave but the priest reached out and grabbed his arm.

Caine's eyes narrowed. "Kermit, I do not wish any harm to come to Erik. He is my son."

"I make no promises, Caine," the computer expert said as he freed himself from the priest's grasp. "How can you stand there and defend Erik after learning what he did to Marilyn? What about Peter? Don't you give a damn about him?"

Caine reacted as if he had been slapped. "If Erik is guilty then he will answer for what he has done, but do not ever question my love for Peter. He is my son and my love for him is never ending."

"Maybe you should tell him that sometime," Kermit replied and instantly regretted his words. The remark had been vicious and unprovoked. "Look, Caine…"

"There is no need for apologies, Kermit. Your words were spoken in anger and concern for Marilyn."

The priest's acceptance of his behavior only made Kermit feel that much worse. "I'll find Peter," he vowed and reluctantly added, "and bring Erik back to stand trial."

Caine nodded and turned to Skalany. "Perhaps we should follow Kermit."

"No," Kermit said, addressing Mary Margaret. "I want you to make sure all the paperwork is completed for Erik's arrest. I don't want there to be any loopholes for his attorney to throw back at us when he goes to trial." With those last words, he left the precinct in search for the blue Stealth.

The silence in the large vehicle was unnerving. Benedict reached to turn on the radio but his hand was slapped before he could touch the knob.

"You didn't ask," Badger said, shaking a finger at him. "Didn't your mother teach you better manners?"

If he weren't so scared, Benedict would have hurled an insult at the man, but the situation was too dire to take such a risk. "Is it alright if I turn on the radio?" he asked, keeping his voice level to keep from angering his kidnapper.

"No, you didn't say mother-may-I."

Benedict didn't know if he should be excited or worried when the Bristol city limits sign appeared.

Kermit slowed the vehicle down when he saw the flashing lights of several police cruisers and emergency vehicles parked on the side of the road. He parked the car, climbed out, and went to investigate.

"What happened," he asked the officer in charge as he flashed his badge.

"Carjacking," the officer answered grimly as the two walked to the crime scene. "We've got two victims, an elderly couple. The woman's dead, and if the survivor hadn't managed to fool the perpetrator into believing he was dead, we would have another casualty," the officer replied indicating a body on a stretcher covered in a sheet. "The husband managed to wave a passing motorist down and give a brief description of what happened before he collapsed. If the motorist hadn't been a registered nurse, he wouldn't have survived, either."

"Is the motorist still here?"

"Yeah," the officer answered, pointing to a blond woman standing by a sports car. "That's her. Mrs. Cassandra Kendal."

Kermit started walking towards the woman, but a feeble voice coming from inside the ambulance tugged at his heartstrings. The elderly man was calling for his wife.

"It's alright sir," a female voice responded with compassion. "Someone is taking care of your wife. I promise she isn't in any pain."

With those words, the ambulance door was closed and the emergency vehicle pulled onto the street on its way to the hospital.

"The paramedics think it's best if he isn't told about his wife until he's stabilized," the officer explained, shaking his head as he started towards the police cruiser. "If you excuse me, I have to notify the family."

"Mrs. Kendal, can I ask you a few questions?" Kermit said, and introduced himself. He waited until she nodded before he continued. "Officer Macintosh said the victim spoke to you before he lost consciousness. Can you tell me exactly what he said?"

"He said his name was Charles Brittan. He and his wife spotted a car turned on its side and slowed down when they saw a man climbing out of the vehicle. They stopped to help, but the man only wanted a ride to town. It was during the ride that the man attacked the couple. The poor man had the sense to fool the killer into believing he was dead."

"Did he describe the attacker or the overturned car? It's important that I find out who did this. We have an officer missing."

"He said the attacker was between 30-40, tall with dark hair, and wore an expensive suit," Cassandra answered. "And the information he gave about the car was brief at best. He said it was a blue sports car."

"Damn, sitting behind a desk has made me soft," Kermit remarked. Somehow, he had driven past the Stealth and missed Peter. He made his way to the Corvair and hurried back down the road in a desperate attempt to find his missing friend. Since Erik had no scruples in murdering an elderly couple, then it was a forgone conclusion he wouldn't hesitate to kill a cop.

* * *

Peter opened his eyes and moaned. His head felt like Mark McGuire had used it as a baseball during the 1999 homerun derby contest. Another moan, and he carefully started climbing out of the overturned vehicle to inspect the damage.

Thankfully, insurance would cover the damage, but nothing prepared him for the shock of discovering his weapon missing and his brother gone. Frantic, he searched the area and found neither one. He staggered up the embankment, hoping the road wasn't as isolated as it had been earlier.

One quick glance and Peter instantly regretted his wish. The green Corvair came to a stop and the angry driver climbed out and headed in his direction.

* * *

"I've got it," Mary Margaret said, craning her neck to keep the phone receiver steady while she wrote down an address. She ripped the top sheet off the notepad and gave the information to one of the federal agents. "Are you alright? And Peter? Ok, I'll tell him. Bye, I'll see you in Bristol."

She hung up the phone, turned, and addressed the agents. "That was Detective Griffin," she said, pausing to glance at Caine. She wished he had stayed in Chinatown where he wouldn't have learned about Erik's latest crime.

She reached out and touched the priest's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Caine," she whispered with compassion before turning to the agents and repeating what Kermit had said. "Erik Montgomery carjacked a car, and according to a witness, is heading towards Bristol. Detective Griffin said that he and Detective Caine are following. We are to meet them in Bristol where he promises the prisoner will be waiting to be taken into custody."

The two agents nodded and left for their vehicle. Before Skalany could follow, Caine grabbed her arm. She looked into his face and saw his concern.

"Mary Margaret," the priest said, speaking in a soft voice. "You did not say what happened to the driver of the car my son took."

"Caine, I…" she paused, unsure how much she should reveal. Caine hadn't asked about any passengers and the driver wasn't dead…yet. So technically, she wasn't lying. "The driver is in critical condition, but he is alive."

The priest released a sigh of relief and then quickly masked his emotions. She thanked her lucky stars that he didn't ask for more details. Instead, he walked out the door and followed the two agents.

She went outside and found him waiting by her car. She opened the passenger door, allowing him to get settled before she slammed it shut. Any other time Caine's company would have overjoyed her, but this time she knew the trip would be a silent one.


	26. Chapter 26

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Bristol city limits sign welcomed the Corvair. Neither occupant had spoken for the past ninety minutes. Amazed that Peter had remained silent for so long, Kermit glanced at his passenger. The instant he did, the peace was shattered.

"I still believe I did the right thing, Kermit. I couldn't let you kill him."

"And because of your blind spot for any and all things Caine," the driver hissed in response, "one person is dead and another one is in the hospital."

"And if you hadn't threatened to kill Erik, it never would have happened," Peter countered angrily. Kermit shot him a glare and the younger man looked away. "I made a promise to Marilyn."

"A promise you had no business making," Kermit said keeping his eye on the road. He admired Peter's loyalty, but Marilyn was his sister and it was his right to protect her, not his friend's. He turned onto the private road where the Montgomery house was located. A moment later, he spotted the Lincoln Continental parked in the front driveway. "The arrogant bastard didn't even bother to hide the car."

"We can't be so bold," Peter commented. He noticed an overgrown field next to the Montgomery home. "Park the car in there." he suggested. "The grass will hide it, and we can enter the house from the back."

"You want me to park the Kermitmobile in a corn field? I'd rather shoot you."

Peter rolled his eyes and started to open the door. "If you want to be seen…"

"All right," he muttered. He pressed down on the accelerator and drove the car deep into the field. Satisfied the vehicle was secluded from main road, he snatched off his sunglasses and glared at his passenger. "One knick, one little scratch, and I'm taking it out of your hide." He climbed out of the vehicle, gave one last glance at the Corvair, and then started walking to the house.

* * *

"I am pleased with my purchase, Mr. Montgomery," a well-dressed man said while shaking Erik's hand. After the gold scepter was placed in a black case, he turned to his companion, who gave him a briefcase. "As promised," he said giving the briefcase to Erik. "Twelve million dollars."

Erik didn't bother opening the briefcase. He knew the money was there and, with it, his ticket to the French Rivera. He took another glance around the underground room and admired the merchandise he had collected over the years.

"I have something you might be interested in buying," he said, walking to a large chest. He pulled out a set of keys, found the one he wanted, and unlocked it. He reached inside, and pulled out a kerosene lantern.

"I use this because the room has no lights," he explained. "Do you have a match?"

The buyer reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of matches. He opened the box, pulled out a match, and struck it.

Erik lit the lantern and led the man to a side door. Once inside, he revealed what was stored inside the room.

"I have plates that can duplicate the currency of any country in the world," he said proudly. After a brief tour, it became obvious his buyer wasn't interested in the counterfeit plates, but in the large gallery of paintings in the outer room.

He led the man out the side door and back to the main area. Placing the lantern on top of a case, he showed off his collection of Delacroix paintings.

"Perhaps another day, Mr. Montgomery," the buyer said. "As I mentioned, I am very pleased with my original purchase."

"Then I think this has concluded our business arrangement," Erik said. "I'm sorry to rush, but I have another engagement that I can't miss."

"I'm afraid you're going to miss that engagement, Montgomery."

Erik looked up and saw a man leaning over the catwalk railing, pointing a weapon at him. He stared at the man briefly until Peter came into view. "You must be Kermit," he stated, shaking his head in disbelief. "I must admit I'm a little disappointed. From Peter's description I was expecting Captain America."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but, then again, I'm not in the fan business," Kermit said, flashing a grin. "Now, I believe you have Peter's gun. I suggest you drop it unless you want a few extra holes added to your attire."

Erik slowly reached into his jacket and grabbed the weapon's handle.

"With your left hand, Montgomery."

Erik thought about challenging the man, but something in the back of his mind told him Kermit wasn't the pushover he appeared to be. He placed the weapon on a nearby case and walked away as Peter and Kermit climbed down the metal ladder.

Peter retrieved his weapon and stuck it into the waistband of his jeans.

"No hard feelings," Erik chuckled, amused by the younger man's angry expression.

"Against my better judgment, I'm allowing you to live," Kermit said. "You can thank Peter and my sister for sparing your miserable life."

"Unfortunately," a voice called from the spiral staircase, "I'm not so generous."

Erik slowly lifted his eyes and found four armed men, each holding a MP5 A2 rifle, surrounding the only man he feared.

"Badger," he gasped, too terrified to speak another word. He moved closer to the two detectives hoping they would shield him from Badger's gaze. Kermit had focused his attention on the man standing on the landing, and pointed the Desert Eagle at Badger. Good, Erik thought, let the cops become the sacrificial lambs while he made his escape.

He started to move in between the detectives but the look on Peter's face caused him to stop. Curious, Erik momentarily forgot his fear and looked back at Badger. His enemy didn't return the look. Instead, Badger was staring at his brother.

"My, my, isn't this interesting," Badger announced, clasping his hands together. The armed men remained in place as he descended the spiral staircase with relative ease. "I guess it's true what they say, you can find all kinds of weird things crawling around in a basement."

Badger moved to the three men wearing suits. "The scepter," he said pointing to the black case. "It's mine. Return it to me."

"I know nothing about this," the man replied in a frightened voice. He opened the black case and gave the scepter to Badger. "I have no beef with you. My deal was with Montgomery."

Badger inspected the staff carefully. "Leave," he ordered.

The three men ran, oblivious to the mocking laughter that followed them.

Knowing they were woefully outnumbered, Kermit lowered his weapon, allowing Badger to see his compliance. The gesture only infuriated Montgomery.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Erik hissed. "Blow his head off while you have the chance."

Kermit jammed the weapon into Erik's chest. "Go ahead, it's all yours."

Badger snatched the gun out of Kermit's hands before Erik could take it, and, surprisingly gave it to Peter. He twirled the scepter around his fingers and grinned. "It suits me, don't you think?"

"Let me guess," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "You're the king of Egypt now. Well, Your Majesty, why don't you go jump in a sarcophagus and bury yourself in the nearest pyramid."

The twirling stopped and Badger glared at the young man. "Why are you here, Peter?"

It was rare that anything ever surprised Kermit, but when the individual called Peter by name, his curiosity was piqued. He turned to his friend and asked, "You know this cheese ball?"

Badger's head snapped in the detective's direction. Before Kermit had time to think, the tall man backhanded him and sent him flying into several paintings. Stars danced in front of his eyes. When his vision cleared, he looked up and found his attacker grinning down at him.

With out stretched hands, Badger announced proudly. "Behold, the power of cheese."

Kermit climbed to his feet and in five short steps stood in Badger's face. "You son of a…"

"Kermit, don't!" Peter shouted and grabbed the ex-merc's arm.

"You just saved your friend's life," Badger said. He tapped Peter's shoulder with the scepter. "Now how should you repay my kindness?"

"Who is this idiot?" Kermit demanded.

Peter glared at Badger and in an unflattering voice, answered. "He's my uncle."

"Uncle?" Kermit and Erik replied in unison.

"Yeah, my uncle," Peter answered. He turned to his newly revealed uncle. "I had hoped you would have changed your ways."

"I did," Damon declared with a smile. "I changed the way I felt about ice hockey. It's cool." He laughed out loud. "Get it. Cool, ice…ha ha ha."

"Pop's going to be disappointed, Damon."

"Considering I haven't lost a single night's sleep wondering what my holier-than-thou brother thinks of me, I can honestly say I really don't give a damn."

Kermit glanced over his shoulder at Montgomery. "I guess we know where you inherited your traits, don't we, Montgomery?"

"It seems everything has changed, hasn't it, Griffin?" Erik whispered. He shoved the two detectives away as he emerged from his hiding place to confront his adversary. "Well, well, well, isn't this interesting, Badger? Or should I call you Uncle Damon?"

Damon glanced at Peter and raised a brow.

"It's true," Peter admitted, motioning in Erik's direction. "He's my half-brother."

"Same mother or father?"

"Father."

"He's big brother's son?"

Peter nodded. "Pop didn't know about Erik."

"What?" Damon gasped. He slapped a hand over his chest and feigned shocked. He looked back at his men and said, "Did you hear that? Kwai Chang Caine, the man who knows everything about anything, didn't know he had a son. Somebody call Ripley's Believe it or Not. Hell's frozen over."

Erik grinned with confidence. "You wouldn't dare harm me now."

"Considering you are my nephew, I suppose it's only fair that I grant you leniency." Damon swung the scepter upwards and started humming the theme to _Jeopardy. _ With a wicked grin, he added, "I'll take fat chance, for a thousand, Alex."

Erik's smile disappeared. He retreated a few steps to escape Damon's murderous glare.

"Don't be so anti-social, Montgomery," Kermit said, shoving Erik forward. "I'm sure your dear uncle doesn't want you to leave without saying goodbye."

Damon reached out, grabbed Erik by the collar, and pulled him closer. "Peter," he said, never taking his eyes off his captive, "take your friend and leave."

"No!" Erik shouted and then pleaded with the two detectives. "You're cops. You can't leave me alone with this madman."

"Madman?" Damon again looked up at the armed men. "I guess those rumors about me are true." He tightened his hold on Montgomery. "You double crossed the wrong man, Erik. Nobody breaks a bargain with me."

"Erik Montgomery is my prisoner. I'm taking him to Braselton to stand trial for murder and several other crimes," Peter said, pulling out his gun. He pointed it at his uncle. "Release him Damon, or I will arrest you for interfering in police business."

One of Damon's men cleared his throat, reminding the detective that he was out numbered.

"I told you to leave, Peter," Damon said threateningly.

"Not without Erik."

"You'll leave or I'll have my men drag you out of here."

"I cannot allow you to harm him, Damon."

Damon looked at his nephew and frowned. "You sound like your father."

"Thanks," Peter said with a smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't a compliment," Damon replied bitterly. He turned to his men. "Escort my nephew and his friend outside and place them inside the van. If either gives you any trouble—sedate them."

Three of the four men started walking down the stairwell.

Kermit ran to the black panel and flipped the first lever. The metallic stairs began disappearing inside the metal pole and the three men fell to the bottom floor. Two managed to climb to their feet, but a third man moaned and remained on the floor.

Erik used the distraction to free himself from Damon's grasp. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a device that looked like a grenade.

"Peter!" Kermit screamed, getting his partner's attention before he rushed to prevent Montgomery from throwing the object.

"Too late, Griffin," Erik declared, and then tossed the weapon into the middle of the room. Smoke engulfed the area in a matter of seconds, and visibility was non-existent.

"It's a smoke bomb!" Kermit shouted. "Everyone, remain calm."

"I can't see," a voice impatiently yelled from the stairwell. Seconds later, something crashed to the floor.

"No!" another voice screamed. "You knocked over the lantern."

A ball of fame erupted. Flames leaped up, igniting the room and causing the smoke to become thicker.

The occupants realized they were trapped.


	27. Chapter 27

**DARK BOUNDARIES**

Kaleidopy

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Kermit reached into his jacket, pulled out a white handkerchief, and placed it over his mouth. The paint from the burning paintings was creating toxic fumes, and visibility had become limited. He heard someone shouting, and looked up to find one of the armed men yelling down at his companions.

Apparently, there was a ventilation system because the smoke and fumes hadn't reached the upper landing of the stairwell. If the fire hadn't destroyed the electrical system, then he could activate the stairwell and create another escape route. The problem was finding the black switch in all the thick smoke.

He used his free hand to find the wall, carefully feeling along the surface until he found the panel. With a brief swipe of his hand, he found the left switch and pulled it. Though he couldn't see it, he heard the metallic sound of the stairwell opening.

Footsteps pounded on the stairwell, and he glanced up to see two of Damon's men leaving.

Rats were always the first to abandon a sinking ship.

"Peter!" he shouted, removing the handkerchief long enough to give directions to his missing co-worker. "Head for the stairs." He heard movement above him again, but it came from the other side of the room. He turned and saw Erik climbing the ladder with Peter in hot pursuit.

"Get out of here, Kermit!" Peter shouted down at him. "I'm going after Erik. Make sure the others get out safely."

"Be careful," Kermit warned. He turned back towards the stairwell and nearly tripped over a body. Kermit reached down and helped one of Damon's men to his feet.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"I...I think I broke my ankle," the man answered, coughing in between sentences. "Badger and the others took off."

The man wrapped his arm around Kermit's shoulders and the two men slowly climbed the metallic stairs. By the time they reached the top, the room was engulfed in flames.

He released his hold on the man, propping him against the wall as he tried to open the door. "It's jammed," he hissed. He tried squaring his shoulder and ramming it into the door but it was to no avail.

"We're going to die!" the man cried.

"Not today, buddy," Kermit said, and rammed his shoulder into the door another time. The door budged, giving Kermit the chance he needed to force the door open. "Come on," he ordered, helping the man through the door. "We're getting out of here."

The two exited the door, and Kermit quickly closed it behind them. As they made their way into the living quarters of the home, he could hear the popping sound of wood burning. "Let's hope that door acts as a firewall long enough to give everyone a chance to get out."

Erik climbed into the closet, crawling on all fours until he reached the bedroom. Smoke was already filling the room, but he still had time to escape and could disappear using an alias.

He had just lost a fortune due to Damon and his idiots. Some day, he swore, he would repay his uncle for that loss.

He got to his feet, and ran to the dresser. He yanked open the bottom drawer, and shoved clothes out of his way in order to grab the small black wallet he kept there. He checked inside, found his fake ID with information needed for overseas travel, and stuffed it into his back pocket.

Erik turned his attention to his escape route. With Damon, Kermit, and Peter pursuing him, using the front or back door was out of the question. No problem. The house had been remodeled for his convenience only, and not, as his mother had thought, for show.

He looked at the large table sitting next to the dresser. The wall behind it was false, another secret passageway that led to the safety of the back yard. He tried shoving the heavy table a few feet, but one of the legs buckled and the tabled collapsed.

He stepped around the table, ignoring the broken leg that rolled away, and used his fingers to feel for the secret door.

"Put your hands up, Erik."

Erik turned around and faced his brother. He stared at the gun pointed at him. "What are you going to do, Peter? Shoot me?"

"That's your choice. Now raise your hands."

He glanced behind his brother, and looked into the closet. Seeing only smoke, he asked, "Where's your favorite uncle?"

"In England: now do as I said."

A terrified scream filled the air and Erik used the distraction to charge his brother. With his shoulder, he knocked Peter into the wall, causing him to drop the gun.

Erik turned, searching for a weapon, and spotted the wooden table leg. He started for the broken piece of furniture, but Peter grabbed his leg and pulled it hard. He fell to the floor, striking his hand against the bed on his way down.

The two brothers rolled around on the floor, ignoring the imminent danger of the fire. Smoke continued to pour up into the room from the closet and the air conditioning vents.

"I'll do as you say," Erik said as his fingers curled around the table leg. "If we don't get out of here, we're both going to die."

He waited until Peter released him and backed away from him. "Help me up," he said, holding out his hand to his brother. "I think I dislocated my shoulder."

To his surprise, Peter had his gun already in hand and pointed at him. He grabbed Erik's out stretched hand and helped him sit up. "Now get on your feet."

Erik hitched in a fake moan and when Peter reached to help, he struck his brother in the head with the wooden weapon.

Peter slumped to the floor and fell face down, but Erik wasn't satisfied. If he wanted one less pursuer, he had to finish this one off while he still had the chance. He struck his brother over the head again, and then dragged the unconscious body to the closet where he hoped the smoke would finish the job for him.

* * *

Mary Margaret parked her car off the side of the road, making sure the emergency vehicles had plenty of room to reach the burning house. She climbed out, slammed the door shut, and slowly made her way towards the house.

"My God!" she gasped, watching firefighters wage a losing battle against flames that were rapidly consuming the largest house she had ever seen.

"We need more water pressure!" the fire chief yelled. He signaled where he wanted the hose pointed. "We've got people coming out. Get the oxygen ready."

Caine moved beside Skalany, watching as Kermit and another man ran out of the burning house. Paramedics aided both men, supplying oxygen masks the second they were clear of the flying debris.

Kermit took a deep breath of oxygen and then slapped the mask away. "There's people…" he gasped, taking in a deep breath. "There's people still inside."

Caine stared into the flames. "My sons?"

Kermit managed a brief nod before he started coughing uncontrollably. The oxygen mask was placed back on his face. The instant he tried to object, Caine placed his hand on Kermit's shoulder and stopped the protest.

"Remain here, Kermit," the priest said in a soothing voice. "I will find Peter and Erik."

"Caine, wait," the ex-mercenary called. "There's someone else involved…"

Caine didn't stop; instead, he continued towards the house.

"Sir, stop! It's too dangerous!" a firefighter shouted. When his plea was ignored, he turned to his co-workers and pointed to the priest. "Stop him before he kills himself."

After several police and firefighters failed to stop Caine from entering the house, Mary Margaret chased after him. She got within a few feet of the house, and a paramedic grabbed her.

"Lady," he said, looking back at the house. "Are you crazy? Nobody can survive in that inferno."

"My friends are in there," she protested, fighting against the man's strong grasp. When she realized he wasn't going to release her, she screamed the priest's name.

* * *

Erik glanced at his unconscious brother, smiling as the smoke continued to pour through the vent and into Peter's face. It shouldn't be too much longer before the damage was irreversible. He started to open the secret door, but heard something crash through the ceiling.

He turned and discovered a piece of timber burning on the floor.

"Erik? Peter?" his father called.

Panicked, he realized he wouldn't have time to escape before his father found him. The priest would wonder why he didn't help his brother. He had to do something that would make it appear he was unable to save Peter. One look at the charred timber and he had his answer.

The flames licked at his skin, but Caine blocked out the pain as he made his way up the burning stairs, calling desperately for his sons. He reached the landing and looked both ways, unsure which direction to take. Smoke billowed through the air ducts, making it almost impossible to see.

He strained to hear anything that would give him a clue as to where to find his missing sons. Downstairs he could hear the firefighters calling his name, pleading with him to give up his suicidal mission.

Something crashed and Caine rushed down the hallway to investigate.

He kicked open the first door and flames leaped out at him. The priest raised his arm in an attempt to shield his face from the intense heat as he stepped into the inferno.

"Father," Erik called from across the smoke-filled room. A large board had fallen and trapped his oldest son underneath it. "Help me," he pleaded. "I can't lift it."

Caine started to assist his son, but caught a glimpse of Peter lying face down in the thick carpet. "Peter," he gasped, rushing to the young man's side. He reached down to touch his son's hair and felt something sticky. He pulled back his hand and discovered blood on his fingertips.

He held his breath, hoping his son's condition wasn't critical as he turned him over on his back. Instantly he became alarmed, detecting the difficultly his unconscious son was having breathing. He realized Peter was suffering from smoke inhalation, and if his son didn't receive oxygen soon, the result would be fatal.

"Father, please," Erik cried, pleading for his father's help. "I think my legs are broken."

Torn between both his sons' needs, Caine pushed back his growing anxiety and turned his attention to the son who was most injured. "Erik," he said compassionately as he lifted Peter in his arms. "I will return for you."

"I knew you loved him most," Erik snapped, trying to shove the beam off his legs. He coughed, raising a hand to his mouth to keep from inhaling more smoke.

Caine quickly moved to the bed and lowered Peter carefully on it. Rushing to Erik's side, he grabbed the beam and tossed it aside. "I will not leave you, Erik," he said, stripping off his jacket and handing it to his oldest son. "Keep it over your face. It will give you some protection from the heat and smoke until I return." He moved back to the bed and tossed Peter over his shoulder. As he started towards the door, a section of the ceiling collapsed, blocking his path.

He kicked the burning sheetrock away, clearing a path to the exit. With great anguish, he was forced to disregard Erik's pleas as he stepped into the hallway. He had only taken a few steps when he noticed someone emerging from the smoke-filled corridor. He heaved a deep sigh of relief when he recognized the individual.

"Damon," he shouted to his brother. "Please, Erik needs help. I cannot assist him and Peter at the same time."

Damon glanced at Peter and then smiled wickedly. "That's your problem, dear brother."

"Then take Peter," he begged. "I will go after Erik."

His brother turned his back and walked away.

"Damon!" Caine screamed, rushing to the landing to try to stop his brother. Damon ignored his continued pleas, disappearing into the smoke as he descended the stairs.

Another crash and the hallway floor began to collapse underneath his feet.

Disheartened by Damon's lack of compassion, he pulled Peter into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he quickly went down the stairs.

By the time he reached the bottom stair, flames had already engulfed the banister and the second floor had turned into an inferno. Water sprayed over his head, failing in its attempt to extinguish the fire.

"The house is about to collapse!" a firefighter shouted through his oxygen mask. He turned the hose towards the wall, keeping the flames away from the priest. "You've got to get out now. We can't hold it back any longer."

The priest took one final glance towards the stairs and realized Erik's chances of survival were slim. He rushed out of the burning building, carrying his unconscious son with him.

The instant she saw Caine running out of the house, Mary Margaret screamed for the paramedics to assist father and son. Caine reached the ambulance and gently lowered Peter onto the stretcher.

"We need to get him to the hospital immediately," one of the paramedics said, placing the oxygen mask on Peter. "He's suffering from severe smoke inhalation."

Caine caressed his son's face before he was loaded into the ambulance. He turned to Skalany and said, "Mary Margaret, please go with Peter. I must rescue Erik, if I can."

"Caine, you can't. It's too late," she said, grabbing the priest. When he turned, she noticed the blood on his shirt. "Caine!" she gasped in shock. "You're hurt."

"It is Peter's blood," he said, turning towards the house.

"Everyone get back!" a firefighter yelled. "It's going to collapse."

The remaining walls crashed, but it didn't stop the priest from trying to re-enter the home.

"Caine!" she screamed. "You'll die."

Thinking the same thing, Kermit grabbed the priest and wrestled him to the ground. "I can't let you sacrifice yourself, Caine," he said, straining to keep control over the grieving father. "I couldn't face Peter if I let you die." He shouted to those standing around watching the confrontation. "I could use some help here!"

"My son is still alive," the priest protested as several firefighters came to Kermit's aid and successfully pinned the struggling man.

Kermit refused to allow Caine to move. He had incredible powers and Kermit didn't want to risk him gaining his freedom until he realized the rescue attempt was hopeless.

Mary Margaret dropped down beside the grieving father. It was the first time she had ever seen him cry. "Caine, please," she pleaded, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "You know it's too late."

Moments later, the priest nodded in acceptance as the tears continued to slide down his cheeks.

The house continued to burn, no longer hindered by the firefighters who had once fought so hard to save it.

_**Epilog**_

A cool breeze blew through the small garden, fueling the wind chimes with enough power to play a beautiful melody.

The garden had been the only place on the hospital grounds that could provide Caine with the peace and solitude he desperately sought as he waited for another update on Peter's condition.

The night had passed slowly, and though Peter remained unconscious, the doctors had assured him that his son would make a full recovery.

His thoughts drifted back to the events of the day before and what he could have done to change the outcome. He had seen the weapon Erik had used on Peter. Did he subconsciously choose to rescue Peter first when he had realized what Erik had done?

No. Peter was the most seriously injured of the two. He had made the most logical decision. It was impossible to save both, yet he felt no peace about the decision he had made.

Had Damon... Damon. He tried not to dwell on Damon's betrayal, but his brother's actions had cost him his son's life. Kermit had told him about the confrontation between Damon and Erik before the fire broke out.

Had Peter not intervened; Damon would have killed Erik then.

He closed his eyes and mourned the loss of a son he never had the chance to know. Patrice had stopped by the hospital yesterday evening to see Peter, and then revealed she was moving to Denmark to live the rest of her life away from the limelight she once enjoyed.

"Caine?"

He turned and found Mary Margaret watching him. He had not detected her presence and he had no idea how long she had been standing there.

"Forgive me," he apologized. "I was thinking of Erik."

Mary Margaret tried to smile but failed. "I don't mean to interrupt, but it's almost eleven. The doctor said…."

"Come," he said. He placed his arm around Skalany's shoulder and walked her back inside the hospital. Kermit stood in the hallway waiting for him.

"I just arrived," Griffin said, meeting him halfway. "Forensics finished going over the house. One body was recovered." Caine held his breath, preparing himself for the devastating news. "But it wasn't Erik's."

"Is it possible that Erik escaped?" he asked, hoping his son still might be alive.

"I doubt it, Caine," Kermit answered in a somber voice. "With the intense heat of the fire, nothing survived. Even the family's safe melted. I don't see how anyone could have made it."

Caine lowered his head and turned away in an effort to conceal his emotions from his friends.

"Caine," Mary Margaret said. "I see someone coming out of Peter's room. I think it's the doctor."

The priest quickly turned and followed Kermit and Mary Margaret down the hall. A doctor walked to the nurses' station and handed a clipboard to the nurse sitting behind the desk.

"Doctor?" Mary Margaret called, getting the doctor's attention. "How is Peter?"

"Are you his family?"

"I am," Caine answered.

"He's still suffering from the effects of smoke inhalation. I'm keeping him on oxygen until his lungs are clear. I don't want to risk pneumonia setting in," the doctor said, looking at Caine. "The X-rays showed no skull fracture, but the blows that he received to the head did cause severe bruising."

"How long will he be hospitalized?"

"A few days, if we're lucky," the doctor replied. "You can see him, but only one or two at a time. He's father is in with him now."

"He's Peter's father," Skalany stated, nodding in Caine's direction.

"His father?" the doctor asked, confused. "Then who is that man inside with my patient? He said his name was Mr. Caine."

Caine opened his eyes wide, understanding the doctor's confusion. "Damon," he said, rushing to his son's room. He pushed open the door and saw his brother leaning over Peter's still form. "Do not touch him," he hissed.

Damon backed away as Caine moved closer. The sound of machinery breathing for his son caused him to glance briefly into the bed. Though Peter remained unconscious, he appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

He ran his fingers through his son's hair, refusing to lose contact with Peter while Damon remained in the room.

"I came to see my nephew," his brother said. "Am I not invited?"

"Only yesterday, you did not care if Peter lived or died."

"Oh, dear brother, did you inhale too much smoke?" Damon started to laugh. "I never gave any indication that I wanted my nephew dead. If I did, he wouldn't be breathing now."

"You let Erik die!" he shouted. "If you would have carried Peter out of the house, I could have saved Erik."

"I wasn't the one who let Erik die, Kwai Chang Caine," his brother stated. "You did. You could have chosen to carry Erik out first, but you didn't. You chose Peter. You played God in your sons' lives. You chose which one died and which one lived." Damon walked to the end of the bed, looked at his nephew, and grinned. "I don't know why you're upset. I thought you made a wise decision."

Damon started towards the door, but Kermit blocked his path. "Going somewhere, freak?"

"Freak? Me?" Damon asked sarcastically. His face turned serious. "Get out of my way little man, or I will toss you out the window and count how many times you bounce."

"Try me," Griffin challenged. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Damon. "I'm placing you under arrest for murder and receiving stolen merchandise."

"Murder? Who exactly did I kill? Let me guess—time. I killed time, right?" Damon laughed again. "Well, I must admit, time does tick me off. Ok, I confess, I killed a lot of time. Arrest me. Oops, you better hurry, the clock is ticking."

"If you weren't Peter's uncle," Kermit growled, "I'd make sure you were never heard…."

"Be careful what you wish for, little man."

"Damon," Caine said sternly. He stepped in between the two warring men. "You said it was my decision to let Erik die. Tell me, if I had carried Erik out, would you have gone back for Peter?"

His brother flashed another smile, glanced once more at his nephew, and said, "That, dear brother, is something you'll never know." With those last words, Damon left the room.

Kermit and Caine exchanged glances and then chased after Damon. Caine opened the door, looked in both directions, but could find no trace of his brother.

"I'll have an A.P.B. put out on him," Skalany said as she started towards the nurses' station.

"No," the priest said, grabbing her arm. He released a heavy sigh. "You will not find him."

"But he's dangerous," she protested. "He's a threat to Peter and to you."

"No, Mary Margaret. He is not," Caine said as he re-entered the room. He stood over his son and smiled. "If Damon had meant to harm my son, he would have."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Caine," Kermit replied. "Damon did want Peter out of the house before it caught fire. Perhaps he does care about Peter."

"Yeah, well," Skalany commented, "he sure has a strange way of showing it, doesn't he?"

Caine turned his attention to the lone window, deep in thought. He knew Damon's accusations were false and that he had said them in order to deliberately try to hurt him, but they still stung. Erik's demise hadn't been his fault; he understood that. But secretly he wondered if he could have done something more to save his oldest son.

The question would haunt him forever, as would Erik's cries for help as he carried Peter down the stairs. But as he looked at his sleeping son, he knew in his heart that he had made the right decision.

The End


End file.
